


The Glade Runner

by kisstheloststars



Category: TMR - Fandom, The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Boarding School, Bottom Thomas, Character Development, Competition, Dorm Rooms, Dorms, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flirting, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Friendship/Love, High School, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, M/M, Masturbation, Private School, Roommates, Running, Sarcasm, Slow Build, Sports, Teasing, Teenage Dorks, Teenage Drama, Teenage Rebellion, Thominho highschool AU, Top Minho, Tournaments
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-20
Updated: 2016-11-04
Packaged: 2018-04-27 06:53:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 65,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5038153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kisstheloststars/pseuds/kisstheloststars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"H-Hey! Hey! Let me out!"<br/>The words seemed to resonate with the boy, his vulnerable tone almost like that of a distant memory; after a while of kicking the door and rattling the handle frantically, Thomas had begun to feel his breath hitch in the back of his throat.<br/>He then completely dismissed all of his thoughts in that moment when the door was unlocked - he would have bolted out of the room if it wasn't for the pair of strong arms which grabbed his shoulders all too quickly and tightly, blocking his means of escape.<br/>"Woah, there!"<br/>"Holy shuck!”<br/>"Bloody hell! Looks like we've got a stranger in our room with the chops to be a runner!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Opening Locked Doors

**Author's Note:**

> (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧~I honestly cannot believe the lack of High school!Thominho, & lack of Thominho in general!~
> 
> Ahah, I'm sorry, I just had to say that V//V;;  
> But anyway, hello there, dear readers! ^//^ Yes, this time it's a Thominho High School!AU fic, and I'm actually very excited to start this off! I truly did try my best with this first chapter! Staying up until 3:00am really didn't do good for my health! @_@ll;; If some of the writing gets too confusing, especially regarding the school times, please do tell me so I can fix it!
> 
> At any rate, please have fun reading it, since I had so much fun writing it! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

“I know…Yeah, I know. Tell Teresa I'm sorry for leaving so suddenly, and not contacting her. I’ll get back to her as soon as I can. Yeah…yeah. I love you too, Mom. _Bye_.”

As he hung up the phone and was greeted with the lonely, familiar sound of the dial tone, Thomas couldn't help but let out a sigh.

Standing outside of the train station within the city to use a payphone proved to be a dumb move – he could have just used one within the station, but people were crowding and bumping into him, so he guessed that the outside would be slightly better in comparison. The busy chattering could be heard here and there as people conversed, others on the phone for important business reasons.

Thomas' phone had died on the train ride into the city from his hometown, after poorly attempting to entertain himself with dumb apps and games. Of course, the boy scolded himself after his phone's death, and questioned how he had even managed to get into WICKED Private Boarding Academy - that is, until he was kicked out.

The reminder of his expulsion from WICKED was a terrible one - the academy was mainly for the elite of the elite, their system running from preschool to high school, with multiple links all over the country (even having some international ties).

But Thomas could hardly say he was from a rich family.

He was what one would call a gifted child, however - hence his early acceptance into WICKED's preschool.

Although his preschool days were mostly a blur to him, Thomas knew that the academy funded everything for him throughout the years - his merit-based scholarship served as a constant reminder of such a fact, after all.

Thomas additionally knew his mom was suffering the most out of everyone - of course, ‘everyone’ being himself, herself, and his childhood friend, Deedee (nicknamed Teresa, since the girl couldn't stand such a childish name) with the expulsion, and that’s what he hated the most.

This entire ordeal he had managed to get himself into – how did it occur, anyway?

At this point he couldn't remember, even though it was all over the course of 8 days.

All Thomas could remember was getting into a fight...

Oh, that was it - he tackled and almost hit Principal Ava Paige's right hand man, the vice-principal, Randall Spilker.

Spilker was a man who mainly handled student discipline and school improvement planning, with a lack of tolerance for anyone who showed even the slightest positive expression.

Thomas was called into Principal Ava's prestigious office on a Sunday afternoon.

The woman wanted Thomas to find dirt on Teresa; to give her a reason to expel the girl for unknown reasons.

Many students quoted that Thomas was a teacher's pet, but he was simply loyal, looking up towards Ava Paige. After what she had asked of him, however, not so much. As far as Thomas knew, Teresa was the one who had tried her absolute hardest at WICKED.

Upon disagreeing with the woman through a passionate outburst, wanting to help his friend, Randall Spilker had hit Thomas out of pure irritation.

Slapped him sharply across the face, to be more specific - with Ava Paige flashing a small smile after he had done so, her eyes soft. An abusing of power.

And in that moment, Thomas tackled Spilker out of self defence, given that the man gestured to carry the physical attacks on. Thomas was then pulled back and snapped out of his actions, being sent home with a week’s suspension until further notice – he only wished he had landed a punch or two on Spilker's ugly face.

After arriving home and explaining the situation to his mother, who supported him fully, then, on the fifth day of the suspension, a Thursday, the letter from WICKED came, informing Thomas and his mother that he’d no longer attend the boarding school.

“ _Fine by me, rich bastards…_ ” Thomas spat quietly to himself, reminded of the repressed memory.

His mother had then helped him spend the next two days looking for another boarding school, which would accept him through a merit-based scholarship.

Despite Thomas' intelligence, the other schools were either filled with students, and couldn't make room for him, or didn't have the funding to let him attend through a scholarship.

Or, they just weren't interested in taking him in, as his reason of transfer was due to an altercation with a teacher at WICKED, resulting in expulsion.

They probably assumed the worst of Thomas, which he didn't _really_ care for. They didn't know the full, true story, after all, and they would believe an elite academy over a teenage kid any day. Thomas just wanted to forget about it, already, and was tired of having to defend himself.

On the second day of the search, however, a Saturday, Thomas and his mother were contacted by a man named Jorge, the principal of Maze Runner High, a private boarding school.

The man quoted he’d be _“more than happy to accept an ex-elite, and from WICKED not to mention! There’s no need to wait a week for the paperwork, as you've already sent the basic gist of them through email, so you can begin attending, no problem! I’d get packing and heading out tonight if I were you, Thomas! Sundays are perfect for unpacking and settling in! Everything’s going to change, Hermano!”._

It all sounded too good to be true, really - Thomas had heard of the school before, but never imagined himself to attend there.

Additionally, Principal Jorge joked about hating WICKED with every fibre of his being, too - from the comment alone, Thomas already knew that he liked the guy far more in comparison to Ava Paige.

Of course, the elder man didn't know the full, true story behind Thomas' expulsion from WICKED. He didn't question it, either, so it was left at that. He was oddly accepting, Thomas noticed.

However, there was a set condition for Thomas to attend the school - it would remain a secret from the other Maze Runner students that he used to be a part of WICKED, to which Thomas and his mother agreed without hesitation.

And so, on that Saturday, and after all of the arrangements were made, the boy wasted no time in packing once again - he also took apart his furniture, so it could be delivered to the school. 

Upon doing so, Thomas noticed that the sun had set. He then headed for the train station, bidding his mother a relatively emotional farewell.

Now a Sunday afternoon after hectically running around, boarding the train, and resting for a night and a day as he was travelling towards his destination, here Thomas was – in the big city, ready to start afresh.

With his multiple suitcases and bags being dragged along the pavement, the boy looked around with squinted eyes, completely bewildered.

“Wh-where is this place…? I know the address of the school, but…?” He asked himself quietly, before trailing off.

The city was truly like a maze – Thomas could only fear for the worst once he had reached the boarding school.

* * *

“Finally fuckin’ found it! **_YES!_** ” Thomas beamed, stood before the relatively grand-looking boarding school.

The perimeter of Maze Runner was surrounded with large, extended hedges. There were also brick walls present, which led to the school's very large campus entrance, with two security guard booths on both sides of it.

The booths, of course, were usually occupied. The two security guards had squinted their eyes, peering at Thomas suspiciously as he made his way on the school grounds. Students walking past and sat down also gave him weird looks.

Thomas' face then heated up in embarrassment at the attention - he coughed a few times in an over-exaggerated manner, looking down at the floor. A few girls giggled at the boy’s mannerisms, whilst other guys shook their heads, walking off.

After a few seconds of awkward shuffling and dragging his luggage up the extended stairs, which lead to the entrance of the actual school building, Thomas had begun to feel out of breath – trust high school kids to help out the new kid with his stuff - he forgot how the emotion of embarrassment had felt.

He was like some untouchable, unwavering saint back at WICKED, and students couldn’t say anything to his face, due to his extremely good relation with Ava Paige - but here, people had no clue who Thomas was, or where he came from.

It was in both his and Principal Jorge’s best interest for it to stay that way, and for him to make a good first impression.

The boy then noticed that a flag was hung up on the school, reading:

** MAZE RUNNER HIGH **

** CO-ED PRIVATE BOARDING SCHOOL **

“Ah, Thomas! _Hermano!_ So glad you could make it!”

At the familiar address, Thomas quickly tore his eyes away from the flag, and noticed the man stood in front of the entrance of the school with dark skin and greying hair, a friendly smile plastered on his face. He wore a relatively smart suit, too, which made his authoritative look all the more genuine.

“Oh, Principal Jorge!” Thomas beamed, a smile instantly being returned towards the man - Thomas recognized Jorge's voice over the phone, and noticed that he looked slightly older, in comparison to his photograph on the school website.

Either way, he was exactly how Thomas had pictured him.

“I trust everything went well for you? Didn’t forget anything, huh, _Hermano_?” The Principal asked curiously with an innocent blink, hands behind his back.

“Oh no, no! I have everything!” Thomas assured, “But I'm expecting a few deliveries of furniture I couldn't bring along...so, somewhere around this coming Wednesday, I think?” He added on, unsure himself.

“Such a wise 16 year old," The older man replied, clearly intrigued by Thomas - the boy paid no mind, however, "But of course, of course! The boy’s dorms are over there.”

The principal gestured to the left side of the boarding school, and at a building in the distance, which seemed to be bigger than the school itself.

There was a building that was almost identical, but located on the right side of the school, and in the distance - presumably the girls’ dorms.

In addition, there were two other buildings located behind the school and at a distance - not as big as the boys and girls' dorms, but at this point, Thomas knew that some of the teachers lived in them.

“Now then, I’ll write your dorm number!” Jorge began spontaneously, taking a pen and slip of paper out of his pocket, beginning to write, “You’ll receive your timetable at breakfast tomorrow, so make sure you’re on your toes!”

“Don’t worry, Sir! I will be!”

“Good that, _Hermano_. 11 th grade is a difficult time for new kids such as yourself. Here!”

Thomas took the slip of paper the man had given him – it read:

_Glade A_

_Room AB57_

After inspecting the slip of paper, Thomas looked up at the man curiously.

“Glade A?” He asked, “What does that mean?”

“It’s just a term we use for the boy's dorms, _Hermano_ ; for the girl's dorms, they’re Glade B.” Jorge explained, “Don’t worry too much about it!" He reassured.

Thomas nodded at what the man was saying.

“So, how many are in a room? For the dorms, I mean?” The boy asked.

“You’ll see for yourself, Hermano." Jorge replied in amusement, "Oh, and also, lessons for the day end at 3:00pm. But at **_6:30pm sharp_** , we have a very strict curfew, be it weekend or weekday. Zero tolerance for any student who isn't back in time for dinner. And after dinner, everyone must remain indoors. You're not allowed outside at all. The doors to access Glade A and B are all locked at 6:40pm, anyway. The school too.”

Thomas’ curiosity peaked at the mention of that, but he didn't want to discover all the negatives to this place just yet.

Instead, he just nodded at Jorge, causing the principal to grin, patting the boy’s back.

After blinking in recognition, the elderly man looked down at his watch, abruptly widening his eyes.

“Geez, already that time, huh?" He asked himself in a low mutter, "Now then, I have a meeting I have to get to. I trust you’ll do fine without me until tomorrow? Should you have any questions, ask your new roommates!”

Thomas couldn't help but chuckle at the man’s humour and hospitality with a nod.

“Thank you so much for this opportunity again, Sir.”

“What’re you saying, _Hermano_? There’s nothing to thank! Have fun settling in, and welcome to Maze Runner!” Jorge replied with a booming laugh as he walked off. 

* * *

“AB57, AB57, c’mon, it can’t be that hard to find!” Thomas muttered to himself.

The boy was currently trying to memorise what was written on the slip of paper, both hands occupied with his luggage - climbing up the stairs to the 2nd floor of Glade A (where the actual rows of dorm rooms were) was by far Thomas' biggest challenge.

The dorms were---well, generic, to say the least; rolls of toilet paper seemed to have been chucked in a toilet paper war, and feathers from pillow fights were scattered around – bulletin boards and walls had graffiti on them, with some smudges of what Thomas identified as blood; just the thought of getting into a fight made him shiver, given his current circumstances - leaflets, notes, and advertisements had scribbles on them, and glass cabinets with trophies and photographs of the sports teams (both present and past) were also on display; of course, the guys of Glade A kept such a thing untouched– Thomas could even swear he saw spit marks on the glass as they wanted to keep the thing so spotless in a desperate attempt. The air also seemed to be slightly stuffy, with a weird scent travelling around.

Charisma was reflected on each front door of the rooms, as the guys all hung up signs, scribbled obscenities, or hung up graphic posters of girls which made Thomas feel slightly sick and dirty for even looking, face flushing in embarrassment.

“ _Well lookie here! We've got a stranger with quite the fashion taste!_ ”

Thomas flinched at the voice of a stranger, turning his head to see a tall, skinny boy with black hair and green eyes grinning at him; _and_   _what the hell did the guy mean by 'quite the fashion taste'? Thomas was only wearing a blue hoodie and black jeans, nothing special._

The guy's intent seemed rather malicious, and Thomas could feel a wave of panic about to overcome him as he turned his body around. He wasn’t already going to be a victim of something as ridiculous as bullying, was he?

Just the thought caused Thomas to roll his eyes subconsciously, and the boy with the black hair cocked an eyebrow at the gesture.

“Oi, you! You’d best not be givin’ me any attitude, ya hear?” He ordered; his voice was rather scratchy, kind of unpleasant for Thomas’ ears.

“I'm not.” Thomas replied calmly with confused blinks, hands held up to try and convince the guy.

“Good...” The boy said with a nod, still rather sceptical, “What’s your name? I ain't seen you ‘round before.”

“It’s Thomas.”

“Boy, I can name about a hundred Thomas’ that go to this school; gimmie your last name too.” The guy stated with a roll of his eyes.

“Why should my last name even matter?” Thomas asked curiously, “And anyway, what’s your name? Since you _so kindly_ asked me what mine was, and I gave you a reply, it’d be nice if you did the same for me.”

“ ** _Wohoah!_** Got quite the tongue on ya’, don’t you, _Tom?_ ” The boy asked, smirking - Thomas felt disgusting at being called that - only Teresa could call him that, if he was being honest, “But you have a point; I _am_ a nice person, so I’ll tell you. _It’s Gally_.”

‘ _I never said he was nice, though? And what the fuck kinda name is “Gally”?_ ’ Thomas thought to himself.

He then nodded his head, and held his hand out for the taller boy to shake.

“Nice to meet you, Gally.”

“You too, _Thomas_.” The boy replied, taking his hand and shaking it.

Gally’s hands were sweaty and gross, Thomas couldn't deny it, but he bit back the influx of sarcastic comments that were about to pour out of his mouth like a waterfall, wanting to make a fresh start for both himself and his mom’s sake. Coming to this school through a merit-based scholarship, as he had done so back at WICKED, was a significant thing, so he had to be as well-mannered as possible.

“So, where you headed, new kid?” Gally asked after letting go of the boy’s hand, subtly trying to wipe his own on his orange, long sleeved shirt. The guy had rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, too, showing his forearms had quite the muscle - come to think of it, his grip was relatively strong –  just how old was this guy, anyway?

His body spoke Thomas’ age, but his mannerisms and appearance spoke 15 years old.

“Oh, right!” Thomas began, snapping out of his thoughts, and fumbling around for the slip of paper - trust him to forget his room name already, “Can you tell me how to get here?” He asked.

Gally snatched the paper out of Thomas' hands abruptly, inspecting it for a moment or two, before nodding with a smirk.

“Sure thing!”

Thomas’ face lightened up as he let out a sigh of relief, grabbing all of his luggage yet again; as dodgy as this guy was, Thomas had no choice but to trust him, since he couldn’t approach anyone – that, and there were no guys in sight.

It was kind of eerie when it was silent; even more so when Thomas thought he had heard something, or it felt like someone was watching him.

“Geez, thanks man, seriously, I owe you one! This place is so big, like a maze!”

“Why d’ya think it’s called Maze Runner?” Gally asked with a snigger, “Boy, you sure are a Greenie."

Thomas blinked and scratched the back of his head nervously.

As they began walking through the hallway, making twists and turns here and there, and climbing up another set of stairs, Thomas still found himself struggling with his luggage - but of course, Gally didn’t offer an ounce of help – he was probably a _‘just this one time I’ll help you out, but any other time depends on if there’s something in it for me’_ type of guy.

Well, considering the fact that he _was_ showing Thomas the way to his dorm room, the boy couldn’t really complain.

“So…” Thomas began, wanting to make conversation, “Where is everyone exactly? There’s no one here.” He pointed out far too obviously, causing Gally to snort; Thomas' face flushed in embarrassment, and he couldn’t help but think that he was going to turn into a human tomato.

“Most've gone out into the city; I trust you know about the curfew, and that the lot gotta be back by 6:30pm, in time for dinner?”

Thomas nodded.

“So why haven’t you gone out today?” He asked curiously.

“Homework, detentions, and more homework. You know, the usual. 10th grade sucks ass.” The taller boy replied with a casual shrug, “But quite a few guys stay at the school on the weekends; their club activities basically last from morning until near dinner-time.”

“So you mean they’ve been practising from dawn up until this point?”

“Yeah, but they should be finishing up in around half an hour or so.” Gally replied with a smirk - Thomas was prompted to look down at his wristwatch.

 _'4:30pm.'_  The boy thought to himself.

“You’re quite lucky; got stuck with one of the sporty types to share a bunk with.” The taller of the two brought up.

That last comment caught Thomas’ attention as he blinked up at Gally with a ‘what do you mean’, to which he was yet again called a ‘Greenie’ – of course, Thomas had no clue what the term meant, and he couldn’t help but pout subtly.

“But anyway, here it is, Room AB57!” Gally beamed, far too enthusiastically for a guy like himself.

Thomas forced a friendly smile as he opened the door, looking down at the doormat. First wiping his shoes as a mark of respect for his new home, the boy then stepped into the room, and took the sight in.

The first thing that Thomas noticed were the bunk beds; one located on the left side of the room by the wall and in the far corner, and the other on the right side of the room, also by the wall and in the far corner – the lack of colourful room walls were covered up by multiple posters (some which were on the verge of falling off), ranging from bands, to sports teams, to models, which gave the place charisma. Thomas’ attention was then directed from the posters when he saw a relatively large desk against the brick wall, and in between the two bunk beds at a distance; two windows (with small, yellow curtains) were fitted into the brick wall so one could look outside – a few pot plants rested on the window sill along with a few cents and quarters; a laptop and lamp rested on the desk as there was a printer underneath, as well as plain paper; there was a couch in the room, a coffee table, and three chairs (one chair being a set with the desk) - sheets and books were placed somewhat messily on the desk, with unwashed mugs of what smelt like tea, and scattered-around stationery. With a cooler and white lamp located in the near corner of the room on the left, Thomas noticed the four built in wardrobes; two on the left side of the room, and two on the right side of the room.  

“Likin’ the view?” Gally asked with a smirk, causing Thomas to turn around with a nod.

“Thanks again, man.”

“Don’t mention it. I’ll stick around for a bit, since my detention’s in five minutes,” The taller boy said with a grin, causing Thomas to nod and look around yet again; there was just so much to take in – blue fairy lights looped around the bunkbeds as they were on, causing Thomas to wonder exactly how much it even cost to live in such a place.

“ ** _Actually, scratch that,_** ” Gally said, causing Thomas to raise an eyebrow upon seeing the boy take a key out from under the doormat that he had just wiped his shoes on.

The boy then flinched in realisation as he rushed towards the door to keep it open, but Gally’s grip was far too strong on the handle as he slammed it shut; plus, he was a few seconds quicker.

“ _H-Hey, Gally, what the hell!? Let me out!_ ” Thomas yelled, banging on the door, “ _Hey, seriously, what’s with you, man!?_ ”

“ _Sorry, Thomas, but I don’t really like you! Don’t take it **too** personally!_ ” Gally’s muffled voice came from behind the door with a sneer.

* * *

" _H-Hey! Hey! Let me out!_ "

The words seemed to resonate with the boy, his vulnerable tone almost like that of a distant memory; after a while of kicking the door, and rattling the handle frantically, Thomas felt his breath hitch in the back of his throat, realising that Gally was already long gone.

Foreign places were still a problem for him, as far as he was concerned.

As Thomas took a seat on his bags, scolding himself for being stupid enough to trust a dodgy guy like Gally, his head hung down low. He attempted to stabilise his breathing for what seemed like an eternity, which prompted him to doze off, shutting his eyes. He could have used this as an opportunity to familiarise himself with his new room, but he couldn't - the negativity was currently too overwhelming for him to do such a thing. So, he kept his eyes closed.

Out of seemingly nowhere, the boy then quickly opened his eyes, hearing three muffled voices coming from beyond the door.

Raising his head quickly, Thomas noticed that 15 minutes had passed since he was locked in the room (as his watch read 4:45pm), and before he knew it, the door handle was also being rattled from the other side, to which he stood up cautiously at.

As Thomas attempted to listen to what the three voices were saying, he was ready to interject with another yell of _'let me out!'_.

" _Hm? Chuck, did you lock the door?_ " The first voice asked - it was a broken, husky voice, with a mixture of both a high and low pitch – kind of like a young middle ground, leaning more towards the lower pitch.

" _Nope, wasn't me!_ " The second voice, supposedly belonging to _‘Chuck’_ replied all too enthusiastically - it sounded like his voice was in the middle of breaking, but it hadn't quite gone full circle yet. He must have been an underclassman in Thomas’ opinion.

" _If I received a dollar every time you told a lie, I'd be able to fix my limp--or no, wait; it'd be a pound since I'm British._ "

First Voice sniggered at the third voice's comment, and Thomas was utterly bewildered by the conversation. He was ready to fight if everything went South.

There was the possibility that these three strangers—or rather, most likely roommates, would assume Thomas was a burglar, not giving the boy a chance to explain himself as they attacked, considering his transfer _was_ so soon; Jorge might have not told them yet.

" _Hey, I'm not lying! I swear, I'm telling the truth!_ " _‘Chuck’_ insisted with a whine.

" _Yeah, yeah, and I'm King of the Slintheads._ "

Something told Thomas that Third Voice was rolling his eyes as he replied sarcastically (Thomas being far too foreign to know what a ‘slinthead’ was). His British accent was something that stood out quite a bit, and Thomas was already beginning to get a loose idea of what he looked like.

"Pft, Newt, what're you even on about?" First Voice spoke up yet again in question.

Something had also told Thomas that _‘Newt’_ casually shrugged in reply to the question with a smile - and what the hell kind of name was ' _Newt_ ', anyway? He would rather stick to Third Voice, thanks.

Thomas then completely dismissed all of his thoughts in that moment when the door was unlocked - he would have bolted out of the room if it wasn't for the pair of strong arms which grabbed his shoulders all too quickly and tightly, blocking his means of escape as he dashed forwards.  
  
" _Woah, there._ " 

"Holy _shuck!_ ”

" _Bloody hell!_ Looks like we've got a stranger in our room with the chops to be a runner! Better watch out, Minho!" Third Voice—or rather, _‘Newt’_ exclaimed, his British accent far too apparent at this point, with what Thomas identified as a sneer.

The boy couldn't help but frown at the comment – dealing with Gally was bad enough, now this?

Thomas imagined the guy to look slightly different, but he wasn't all that surprised when he saw that _‘Newt’_ was around the same age as himself - he was a tall, square-jawed, and rather muscular student (with skin on the pale side of life), and as well as having dishevelled, seemingly soft blond hair that reached down to his neck, his fringe was styled to the side in a posh manner, nose perfectly curved, and his hazel eyes being shown off.

"You calmed down now, Greenie?" First Voice asked calmly, who Thomas identified as the guy with an iron grip on both of his shoulders - the just-mentioned name ‘Minho’ undoubtedly belonged to this guy.

Thomas blinked out of his trance and looked a few inches up at him - the guy was Asian (he seemed to be Korean), and he looked about a year older than Thomas - as his tanned skin was slicked with sweat, a towel was currently resting around his neck.

The guy also had short, black hair, gelled upwards and like that of a quiff.

After taking features of _‘Minho’_ in, Thomas noticed that _‘Minho’_ was quietly observing, inspecting him from top to bottom, staying fixated on his face for a few seconds.

Thomas then blinked in confusion at the strange name he was called.

"... _'Greenie'?_ \-- _what the hell_ \--- _hey,_ my name's  _Thomas!_ "

"Alright, _alright!_  Slim it, Shuckface, I get it; you're a guy with no chill. _I'll make a mental note of that._ " The guy replied with a cocked eyebrow, patting Thomas' shoulders before letting go of them.

Thomas could feel a slight silhouette of an ache beginning to form in both shoulders. The guy worked out - even Thomas, who didn't really care about physical fitness, could tell.

It also explained why the guy, who currently wore a light blue tank top, had well defined muscles and forearms, bulging out ever so slightly in a way which Thomas could see the veins, and how the blood was passionately pumping through them.

' _Great, so **this** was the sports nut roommate Gally was telling me about._ ' The boy thought, looking to the side with squinted eyes.

First Voice—or rather, _‘Minho’_ , then proceeded to walk past Thomas and chuck his sports bag on the top of the bunk bed, on the left side of the room.

He then grabbed the top of the bunk bed’s ladder and pulled his body up to join the bag with swift ease, missing the ladder steps.

Thomas made sure to remember whose bunk was whose, as he saw that the other bunk bed on the right side of the room was already occupied by both _‘Chuck’_ and _‘Newt’_ , crinkled sheets and clothes getting message across all too clearly, whereas the bunk belonging to _‘Minho’_ had an untouched one on the bottom.

Great. Just great. Sharing a bunk with _‘Minho’_. And he was on the bottom.

_Great._

“ _Minho!_ Play nice!” _‘Newt’_ snapped in a motherly manner.

Thomas couldn't lie - it would be hard not to call this guy ‘Mom’ once in a while. He really missed his real one, now that he thought about it

“Sorry ‘bout him!” _‘Newt’_  stated  towards Thomas with an apologetic smile, “I’m Newt, 16 years old. That Slinthead there’s Minho, 17 years old, and this wee little fat shank here’s Chuck, 15 years old!” He introduced, gesturing to Minho on the bed, and Chuck stood by his side with a smile.

Chuck's face then dropped when he realised what his introductory sum up was.

“Hey, I’m not fat!” He snapped, causing Newt to tilt his head with a nervous laugh.  

“That’s what they all say.” Minho commented monotonously, using his towel to wipe some of the sweat off of his forehead. As he read a book, leaning against his pillow, both Chuck and Thomas frowned.

Was this really the way guys joked with each other at Maze Runner? It sure as hell wasn’t a good first impression, if Thomas was mistaken.

"So anyways, Greenbean--"

" _Thomas._ " The boy corrected Newt sourly, doubting he’d like the slang used here at all.

" _Yeah, right,_ **_Thomas_** ,” Newt said with a roll of his eyes, hand on his hip, “Why’re you in such a bloody rush to get out of here? You’re the new kid in 11th grade, and our new roommate, right? Otherwise you wouldn't be here with all of your luggage," He pressed on curiously, gesturing to Thomas’ stuff in a small pile, “Minho and I are in the same grade as you, if that’s the case. Principal Jorge told us about you yesterday.”

"Oh, well…yeah…I am…” Thomas nodded awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck.

“I'm lucky I'm in the 10th grade,” Chuck muttered, looking away, “Can’t imagine having to share classes with these two shanks. Sharing a dorm with them is bad enough,”

“ _Slim it._ ” Minho ordered, causing Chuck to roll his eyes.

“Anyway, much obliged I must say, ol’ chap,” Newt stated sarcastically, the grin on his face being a genuine one as he held his hand out for Thomas to shake.

Thomas couldn’t help but smirk, an eyebrow cocked as he took Newt’s hand and shook.

“Nice to meet you…”

“ _So!_ ” Newt beamed, letting go of Thomas’ hand, “Back to the main question. Care to elaborate? _Why were you in such a rush?_ ” The boy asked again.

Thomas was wondering if he was about to be lectured, since Newt’s tone didn’t say anything otherwise.

“Oh…right...well, this guy thought it would be funny to lock the new kid in his own room--"

"Correction: _' **my** room'_ ," Minho interrupted, pointing at himself.

Thomas looked up at the guy with a slight frown, but quickly dispelled the expression. Minho's comments were beginning to get pretty irritating, and it had only been a few minutes since they had met. Unpredictable and sarcastic.

"Double correction: _' **our** room'_." Newt said with a stern expression, arms folded, "So, Shanks are messin’ around with the new Greenie, huh? Well, I don’t blame ‘em.” He said with a smirk, shrugging; Thomas couldn't lie, that last part hurt, “At any rate, Chuck _was_ telling the truth."

"I _told_ you guys!" The chubby boy said, his cheeks puffed out, "I never lock the door!"

"Oh, so you haven't reached **_that age_** yet, then." Minho commented, a slight, unnoticeable smile playing on his lips.  
  
Thomas' face flushed at the hint of something so personal and embarrassing, unable to stop himself from turning to look at Minho with wide eyes, wanting to say something, but instead opening and closing his mouth like a goldfish. He could only imagine how poor Chuck felt.

“Are you a slinthead or something? _Of course_ I’ve reached that age! I do it in the showers!”

Thomas’ eye twitched at that, feeling his shoulders tense up in disgust at such a reply, especially coming from a guy like Chuck, who _seemed_ innocent enough.

Thomas then turned himself back around to stare at the plump boy; just the thought of the smaller guy before him doing something like that made him want to throw up on the spot.

Newt began barking out in laughter as he clutched his stomach, with a reply of ‘good that,’ in between his gasps for breath. Chuck was practically glowing, and seemed proud of himself.  
  
"But that aside,” Minho began after quietly sniggering to himself, “What I wanna know is how some slinthead managed to get hold of the keys to our room in the first place."

"Probably because Newt has such a girly face, they pulled some strings?" Chuck suggested, causing Newt to flush & yell out a _‘I do not!’_ , his accent far too apparent.

Thomas cocked an eyebrow at such a strange suggestion, wondering why a guy would want the key to the dorm room, if the other guy living in it had a girly face. It didn't make sense.

"Nah, I wouldn't bet on it; probably because our Greenie here has the incurable ugliest shanky girl look, the slinthead didn't wanna get infected and locked him in." Minho replied, gesturing to Thomas.

“Uhm--…Thanks?" Thomas replied, rather unsure what to make of that; Minho simply smirked, “But I saw him pick up a key from under the doormat, before he closed and locked the door on me.” The boy added on in explanation, “Said his name was Gally while he was ‘helping me out’; you know, since being the new kid an’ all is hard,” He finished off, gesturing bunny ears to get his sarcasm across.

At the mention of Gally, Minho’s facial expression turned into that of slight anger, and Newt tensed up. Chuck merely laughed nervously, and Thomas couldn't help but wonder if he had made the situation worse for himself, as he looked between the three.

Tension now enveloped the room as there was a silence.

“ _...Aww, c’mon guys! Gally really isn’t that bad!_ ” Chuck beamed, attempting to kill the dangerous atmosphere, “He’s super nice to me in the lessons we have together!”

“Yeah, let me reiterate: to _you_ , maybe,” Newt muttered. Minho nodded in agreement as he closed his book, placing it by his side and sitting up cross-legged on the bed.

“Dumb Shuckface can’t even respect his elders."

"He's going through some stuff at the moment." Chuck added on in reason.

"Yeah, well, he's still an asshole," Thomas muttered, looking away, "It’s kinda hard to believe he's only in the 10th grade..”

“Pft, you’re tellin’ us, Greenie.”

“Well, he _is_ scared of Minho, so that should count for something, right?” Newt suggested, thumb and index finger holding his chin in thought, “I don’t think he’d mess around with Tommy if you're within his radius,” He said, looking over at Minho.

Thomas blinked at his new nickname, face abruptly flushing in embarrassment - he'd registered just how childish it sounded, but shook the thought off when he looked up at Minho, to see that the guy was chuckling to himself.

“What’re you talking about, Newt? If anything, the Shuckface is scared klunkless of _you_.”

“That's true, you _are_ really scary when you get angry!” Chuck added on after Minho; Newt simply let out a breathy laugh as Thomas was still trying to process Minho’s word choice of ‘klunkless’ in his sentence.

“But anyway, worry not, Tommy; he’s just some guy with issues. We’ll find some other place to put the key; maybe in one of the house plants in the hallways – how’s that sound?” Newt asked Chuck and Minho as he patted Thomas’ back in reassurance.

The boy couldn't deny that it _was_ nice to be comforted by roommates. WICKED guys just kept to themselves and talked smack about him.

Chuck and Minho simply nodded in reply to Newt’s suggestion.

“Well then, now that all that’s outta the way, I’m havin’ a shower,” Minho stated, jumping off of the top bunk and walking over to the first wardrobe on the left side of the room, grabbing all of the things he needed. Thomas caught a glimpse of a couple of weights in the wardrobe, with orderly, hung up clothes.

“You were running all day _again_ , and I _still_ can’t believe it,” Newt pointed out; Thomas couldn’t help but blink at the newfound information as he listened.

“Well duh,” Minho replied, rolling his eyes, “Captain of the Running Team’s got a rep to uphold, right? The amount of sweat I produce is so fuckin’ gross, I can’t take it.”

“Good to know.” Chuck muttered in disgust, looking away.

“You should’ve seen the dumb shanks try to keep up with me,” Minho brought up in amusement, ignoring Chuck's comment, “Most of ‘em didn’t last in the morning, so they went out into the city. Practising since 6:00am is wonderful, those dumb shanks just don’t get it.”

“Thank god I got out of it while you weren’t the captain with my limp,” Newt replied with squinted eyes, arms folded. Thomas was even more surprised at the mention of Newt being an ex-runner, “Well anyway, you have fun with that; guess I’ll have to explain to Tommy how things run around here by _myself_ ,” The blond added on in emphasis.

Minho simply shrugged, before nodding his head, and heading out of the door.

“ _Unbelievable._ ”

“ _Hey, I’m here too!_ ” Chuck whined. 

* * *

“ _So, that guy…uh, Minho…he said he was Captain of the Running Team…_ ” Thomas began, hands in his lap as he sat against the couch and in front of the coffee table; Newt sat by his side, having what seemed like British sweets not yet introduced in the U.S under a different name and recipe.

Chuck was busy laughing at his laptop as he sat on the bottom bunk on the right side of the room, wearing his headphones – presumably a really crappy comedy or something, Thomas thought.

The clock currently read 5:30pm, with time seeming to fly by the more Thomas spoke and joked with Newt. After Minho left, the two sat down whilst talking, and hadn't gotten up since.

“Yup. Minho’s also known as Keeper of The Runners around the school, which basically means the same thing,” Newt informed with a nod, “He’s the most popular guy out of all of us, and the strongest – he has ties with the seniors through the running team, and they respect him as though he’s their teacher, since having the captain title isn’t a joke.”

“Yeah, well...his sarcasm sure says otherwise...” Thomas muttered, causing Newt to bark out a hearty laugh.

“Well, you're not wrong; the guy’s got quite the sarcastic persona on him, but it's what makes his sense of humour the best.” The boy informed with a grin.

"I'm surprised...I thought that he was a senior.” Thomas added on, causing Newt to laugh yet again.

"Yeah, he does get that a lot. A lot of the freshman are scared klunkless of him, too."

" _I wonder why_."

"But that's not all there is to him," Newt replied, catching Thomas' attention, "He also has a ton of skills...his memorisation is fucking crazy, and his running title speaks for itself – basketball teams, rugby--or rather, football teams, tennis teams, and soccer teams are always begging him to help out due to his speed. Also, his maths---sorry, _math,_ is pretty amazing too. I'd be lying if I said that the guy wasn't offered sporting scholarships from other schools; schools way better than this dump. Dunno why he doesn't take any of the offers, though. ”

Thomas nodded in amazement at how much there was to Minho; he felt kind of envious.

To Thomas, he didn’t do anything back at WICKED, with the exception of receiving the best grades and staying on all of the teachers’ good sides. He didn't really have any ties with the other kids; there was Teresa, but everyone always assumed they were dating, so it wasn't quite the same.

Thomas then blinked in realisation.

_Shit._

**_Teresa._ **

He had forgotten to get back to her, let alone _charge his phone_ ; he also had yet to purchase a laptop, so job hunting was something on his to do list.

After a few seconds of panicked thought, he had decided to get back to her tomorrow.

"But you know, his grades slip slightly at times,” Newt informed, snapping Thomas out of his trance, “And that’s where I come in – I sometimes tutor Minho and help out.”

Thomas’ eyes flickered at the information as he nodded in recognition.

“The guy’s capable, but sometimes he needs me to get back on the right track; it’s the same in Chuck’s case - while Minho was practising his running today, I was tutoring the wee little fat shank,” The blond said with a grin, “I'd like to think of us three as family, but a familial-like atmosphere just isn't around us...me and Minho do hang out, but not with Chuck...like, we're all friends and stuff, but it's like Chuck's in a world of his own, and sorta detaches himself from everyone else, even though he's got a boisterous personality...and, uhm, you know, the wee little fat shank's not that popular in his grade, so we sometimes try to show we care--Well, I try to, at any rate...he can be kinda annoying at times, though...” He whispered quietly.

Thomas’ heart ached at the information - he had only hoped in that moment that his addition to the dorm room would make Chuck a bit happier.

“Right,” Newt began, shuffling around to sit opposite Thomas, the coffee table in between them, “Now let’s get down to business, Tommy, ‘cause I sure as hell doubt anyone will explain this to your fine ass for a second time.”

“You think my ass is fine?” Thomas asked the boy, sarcastically touched; he was simply unable to resist as he grinned, causing Newt to squint his eyes.

“Haha, _very funny_ ,” His roommate replied with a tilt of his head, “Now pay attention.”

“I’m listening.”

“Good that,” Newt nodded, “I’m going to explain how everything works here at Maze Runner..."

With a nod, Thomas listened.

"Breakfast starts at 7:30am until 8:00am every day, so you've gotta get up before then, otherwise you’ll miss the lot - believe me, I've seen how those wild Shanks eat, and it’s not pretty." Newt informed, causing Thomas to nod.

"School begins at 8:00am, and the weekdays are made up of 5 lessons. School ends at 3:00pm, meaning students have 3 hours and 30 minutes of free time to venture out into the city, the whole lot – but at  _6:30pm sharp_ , students have got to be back in their respective dorms, in time for dinner - the boy's dorms are called Glade A, and it’s four to five guys living in each dorm room together, whereas the girl's dorms are called Glade B, and it’s three to four girls living in each dorm room together. Showers and bathrooms are on every floor of the dorms." Newt explained, as though he had rehearsed it. 

Thomas was quite amazed, if he had to be honest.

"Again, you’ve got to be punctual when it comes to food, or you’ll miss the lot," The blond informed, and the Greenie nodded seriously, "6:30pm also signifies the start of the mandatory curfew - at 6:40pm, the doors to Glades A and B are locked, as well as the school."

Newt studied Thomas' facial expression, before continuing on.

"When the curfew begins, there's strict buggin’ security - _security guards so strict, we call ‘em Grievers._ You don’t want to get caught by one, trust me. It’s best to just stick to the rules. The curfew and the time dinner starts applies on weekends, too, so be careful tracking time,” The blond warned.

A part of Thomas wanted to defy the curfew, but he could hear the genuine tone of caution in Newt’s voice, so he simply nodded.

"But wait, if the doors to the Glades and school are locked at 6:40pm, what time do they open again?" Thomas asked curiously.

"5:00am." Newt shortly replied, “Weekends are basically free time to do whatever one wants, so after breakfast, most of the students go out into the city together to hang out and have lunch, since our dorm cafeterias don’t really supply us with anything good. But anyway, after dinner ends at 7:30pm, we have free time until 10:00pm, which signifies lights out. Since the doors are locked after 6:40pm, to pass the time, we all play a game, watch a movie, catch up on homework, contact loved ones, or whatever. Well, if I'm being honest, no one _really_ falls asleep at 10:00pm...And of course, we can’t have breakfast or dinner with the girls, since they’re served in their dorm cafeterias, as we are. Us lads all eat breakfast and dinner together. Lunch is served at the school on weekdays, so some guys do sit with the girls, but we’re all in pretty tightly knitted cliques, if you get me?” He asked with a smile, head tilted.

Thomas nodded simply.

“Good that,” Newt replied, "Now, any questions?" He asked.

"I guess...club practise?" Thomas replied, "Like, what times do the clubs start, and stuff?" He added on - not that he had the intention of joining any, but it wouldn't hurt to ask.

"Well, on weekdays, morning club practises last from 6:00am until 7:00am, and after school, it's from 3:00pm until 5:00pm. On Saturdays, the clubs aren't on - think of it as a day off. However, on Sundays, the practise lasts from 6:00am until 5:00pm...since it lasts for a long time, you can choose when to leave and arrive."

After explaining all of that, Newt sighed out, clearly out of breath.

“Right, Tommy, if that's all, summarise it for me.”

Thomas nodded, obliging.

“Saturday is a day off, 7:30am weekday start, lessons end at 3:00pm, can’t miss breakfast or dinner, 6:30pm curfew every day, Sunday club practise lasts forever, and 10:00pm is lights out.” Thomas listed, counting them on his fingers.

“You know… _I can’t help but think we spoke about nothing but food._ ” Newt muttered with a sour laugh.


	2. Welcome To The Glade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I POWERED THROUGH TO FINISH THIS CHAPTER BECAUSE I'VE OFFICIALLY FINISHED THE MAZE RUNNER BOOK TRILOGY YESTERDAY, AND I'M SO EMOTIONAL.｡･ﾟヾ(థ//ｪ//థ)ﾉ｡ﾟ･｡ 
> 
> Please enjoy it, dear readers!~ <3 I tried to delve into the whole Thominho dynamic while keeping in mind that they're silly high school students who don't know any better :')

The 2nd wardrobe on the left side of the AB57 dorm room now officially belonged to Thomas.  
  
The Greenie didn’t know what it was, but hearing such a fact made him feel a sense of excitement in the pit of his stomach – like butterflies - which was a nice change from the usual (somewhat minimal) pent up anxiety he kept there, which felt kind of similar to butterflies, but more... _wilder_.  Like moths, or something.  
  
As Thomas let out a sigh of relief, finally finishing his unpacking, the boy couldn’t help but simply sit in front of the built in wardrobe, and stare in silence at his handy work with admiration.

All of his clothes were now hung up neatly, his shoes were placed in the provided compartments of the wardrobe, his boxers and socks were placed in the drawers (along with a few other things), and his multiple suitcases and bags were fitted into the wardrobe like a completed puzzle. It was all neat and tidy, just the way Thomas liked it...kind of.  
  
The boy turned his head around to look behind him - that was when he'd noticed the free space in the near corner of the room on the right side, and that, it too, was exclusively for himself, remembering Newt had said so. Thomas couldn’t help but marvel at the thought of seeing his chair and desk in the free space, so he had decided that his soon-to-arrive furniture would be placed there; he could see it all now. With the addition of his new laptop, just as soon as he could find a job and earn the money for it, it would all be perfect.

After turning his head back around to do a final quick check of the wardrobe, the boy nodded in satisfaction and stood up, closing it.

Thomas then looked down at his watch to see that it was currently 6:00pm, signifying that 30 or so minutes had passed since Newt guided him through the basics of Maze Runner, and left him to sort his wardrobe out. To be honest, Thomas was surprised that Maze Runner's website lacked the detail that Newt went into.

The windows showed that the sun had now completely set – as the sky’s dark blue was getting even darker, the faint shimmering of the stars could be seen.   
  
Thomas then proceeded to look around in curiosity, noticing that Minho hadn’t come back to the room in quite a while - was the guy out running again? If that was the case, then he was cutting it close, considering the Grievers were merciless after the 6:30pm curfew - well, according to Newt and Principal Jorge, anyway. Thomas was just itching to see what would happen if you got caught by one of the Grievers; in his case, he’d probably run.

It then struck Thomas that Minho could probably take care of himself, and the boy couldn’t help but feel his face heat up at his own stupidity.  
  
Before his suspension, Thomas had never gotten into trouble at WICKED, and a part of him now wondered if it was normal (or even possible) for a teenager to do that.    
  
Shaking his thoughts regarding WICKED off, the boy could only wonder where Newt had gotten to, whilst he was busy unpacking. The blond guy didn't want to disturb Thomas as he was sorting the wardrobe out, so he left the room stealthily, which the Greenie couldn’t help but smile at the thought of.

In comparison to Gally, Newt was definitely going to be a good friend during his time here – unless the guy felt differently and didn’t like Thomas at all? After all, to put it simply, Newt did say that he doesn’t blame students for picking on Thomas.

“Jesus, I just can’t help myself, can I?” Thomas muttered to himself quietly, agitated at the negative thought, “Hey, Chuck,” He abruptly addressed, wanting to redirect his attention towards something else.  
  
Chuck was still sat on the bed and engrossed in his movie, chuckling to himself from time to time, headphones probably blocking out any other sound that may disturb the _oh, so funny_ experience. Thomas let out a breathy laugh at the sight as he tilted his head. Chuck seemed to notice, blinking at the boy, before pausing his movie, and slipping his headphones off.  
  
“Hm? What’s wrong, Thomas?” He asked curiously, placing his laptop by his side.  
  
“Yeah, uh...where’s Newt and Minho? They’re not back, and it’s almost curfew time, right?” Thomas asked, gesturing to the clock which was hung up at the very top of the brick wall.  
  
“Oh, don’t worry about Minho! He’s probably out running again!” The plump boy reassured with a grin, “He just can’t help himself, y’know? It’s like he was destined to run whenever he can!"  
  
“ _Figures._ ” Thomas said, lips pursed as he quickly rose of both of his eyebrows, and gave a curt nod.  
  
“But Newt’s probably downstairs in the dorm cafeteria; I hear Frypan’s helping the cooks out with tonight’s dinner, and that Newt is also lending them a helping hand! God, just thinkin’ about them cookin' is making me hungry as shuck!”  
  
“Wh—What? _‘Frypan’? Who?_ ” Thomas stuttered, shaking his head at such a ridiculous name, thinking he had misheard.

Seriously, just what kind of names were these teens given by their parents? That, or the guys at this place had a really _weird_ way of coming up with nicknames.  
  
“He’s only the best chef in Maze Runner!” Chuck beamed excitedly, “His cooking is seriously one of a kind, trust me! It’s hard to believe that he’s only a student! You’ll see what I mean when we go downstairs!” He reassured.  
  
It then struck Thomas that he would be meeting the boys of Glade A _tonight._

Needless to say, in the pit of his stomach, moths had begun to flutter around as crazily as ever before.

Whoever befriended Thomas tonight would determine how well-known he’d become around the school, how his first day would go, and which clique he’d join.

On the other hand, whoever blatantly disliked him through their words and actions would determine his bullies. Of course, at this point, Thomas knew that all of Gally’s friends would hate him as soon as they saw him walk through the doors. He wondered how many friends Gally even had; probably not a lot. The thought soothed Thomas slightly, as horrible as he felt for thinking such a thing.  
  
“Er, yeah, Chuck, about that…” The boy began, “I kinda wanna skip dinner tonight…” He said, scratching his neck uncomfortably, and unable to look the shorter boy in the eye.  
  
“Wh-huh? Why?” Chuck asked curiously, proceeding to sit up on his bed cross-legged, now paying full attention as to what Thomas had to say.  
  
“It’s just that I’m really tired from all of the travelling, and unpacking’s made me even more tired. And I feel a bit nauseous. I just want to shower and go to sleep, if that’s okay.” Thomas replied lamely in explanation, making sure to send a small smile of reassurance in his direction.

After a while of silence, Thomas couldn’t help but notice Chuck was looking down at the floor, his face having a somewhat melancholic look to it - as though he was remembering something - the younger boy then looked up at the 11th grader, his eyes having a slight determined look to them.  
  
“You know, Thomas, it’s okay if you’re scared…" He began softly; Thomas could tell that the 10th grader was being genuine through his tone, "I was, too - back when I was the Greenie,” He added on, "You're already doing way better than I did; almost klunked my pants 10 times on my first day.” He informed, and Thomas couldn’t help but squint an eye, as well as smile at the boy’s reassurance (as strange as it was), “Been a year since I’ve met and lived with both Newt and Minho, so I’m doing fine. I’m not that scared any more. Trust me, I get you; being the new kid sucks.”  
  
“That’s a total understatement,” Thomas replied with a laugh, causing Chuck to grin, “But I’m not scared,” He stated, and Chuck instantly sent him an unamused look; Thomas then quickly held his hands up in defeat, realising that the 10th grader was a pretty sharp guy, “Okay, okay, maybe a bit, but who isn’t, right? I want to go down there and meet them all - believe me, Chuck, I really do; but I’m seriously exhausted. I even ate on the train before arriving, so there’s no point in eating when I’m not hungry.” He reasoned, “I’m pretty sure one of the guys will need my share more than I do, anyway. Like I said, all I want is a shower and some sleep.”

After examining Chuck’s facial expression, Thomas didn’t know what the younger boy's reply would be. What he had just told Chuck was the truth, so he could only hope that the younger wouldn’t persist.

Chuck then pouted after a while of looking into Thomas’ eyes, before instantly breaking out into a smile.

“ _Alright, Greenie, it’s your call at the end of the day. Have a shower and get some sleep._ ”

Thomas only let out a sigh of relief, before returning the smile.

“Thanks for trying to convince me, Chuck. You're a good guy. I think you're the only one here who gets me.”   
  
The Greenie didn’t know how to react when he saw that Chuck was on the verge of tears, practically glowing at the compliment he was just given.

In the end, Thomas couldn’t help but smile even more – he was being genuine – the boy was like an annoying younger brother to him, and he didn’t need a reply to know that Chuck was thankful for the compliment.  
  
“So anyway, what’re you watching?” Thomas asked, walking over and taking a seat by the plump boy; Chuck instantly shuffled over to the side, in order give Thomas some more room on the bed, before taking his headphones out of his laptop with a grin.  
  
“A really funny film!” The younger boy replied, placing the laptop on his lap, “Wanna watch?” He asked, and Thomas nodded. 

* * *

As Thomas looked out of one of the open windows fitted into the brick wall, body leaning against the window sill, he gazed up at the night sky with a smile - the cold breeze hitting against his face enabled him to feel a sense of refreshment as he now wore a blue, long-sleeved shirt, and loose grey trousers.

Whilst the sounds of cicadas could be heard, as well as the cars passing by the boarding school, the city was illuminated with a variety of lights - but of course, Thomas couldn't make out all of the details.

The school and dorms were situated quite a distance away from the very center of the city - maybe a ten minute walk at most to reach it, Thomas thought.

The Greenie could only describe it to be positioned near the outskirts, as there were four paths on the campus - the campus itself consisted of lots of grass, benches, and lamps, making it resemble an orchard - there was one straight path which led to the vast stair cases leading up to the school, another path led to the girls' dorms, the next led to the teachers' dorms, and finally, the last path led to the boys' dorms.

Of course, Thomas knew that there was a whole lot more to the school than met the eye, and the paths didn't need to show it. Teachers' cars were parked outside of the school overall, although it didn't make a difference to the road, given that it was relatively wide. Other cars could pass by with ease.

Now that Thomas thought about it, Newt mentioned that the 18 year old seniors weren't allowed to have cars at all (they had to keep them back at home), if they wanted to be students at Maze Runner. It was a rather strange condition to Thomas, but it's not like he could talk, given his situation. The boy didn't dwell on it too much - he couldn't drive, anyway - after all, he was only 16.

After Chuck had decided to stop watching the movie and turn his laptop off, sliding it under his bunk, he told Thomas that since it proved to be difficult to explain the plot in detail to someone who had never seen it before, they should watch it from the beginning tomorrow, to which Thomas agreed.

That was when the plump boy had ordered Thomas to grab his towel, hairdryer, hairbrush, and showering supplies, before dragging him over to the dorm showers on their floor.

The boy guided Thomas through how everything worked, and how his dirty change of clothes would be placed in the laundry basket by the door of their dorm.

Turned out that Chuck, Minho, and Newt did their laundry duties based on a weekly rotation, meaning that they washed each other’s clothes, and that Thomas was now going to be a part of it.

As the mini whiteboard hung up against their dorm room’s door had writing regarding the rotations (which Chuck had now added Thomas' name to), Thomas knew the same rotations applied to washing the dirty dishes that may have piled up in the room, and disposing of the garbage in the two bins.

All of this was to be done on a Sunday - today, it was Chuck's turn.

Whilst Chuck was explaining all of that, Thomas looked around in relief at the fact that, luckily, no one was in the showers. There were ten showers lined up on the left side of the space, with shower curtains, shower supply holders, and hooks. In addition, on the right side of the space, there were five sinks lined up with a mirror fitted above each one - an area for one to brush their teeth, wash their face, and shave in the morning, Thomas thought. There were also plug sockets by each sink for the hairdryers. 

The sensation of the lukewarm water hitting against Thomas' skin felt like pure and utter bliss to him. As he washed his brown hair, the boy thought about how peculiar it was that his hair would turn a lighter shade when dampened. Then, he thought of how Chuck had taken his dirty clothes to wash, along with the rest of the clothes in their room, in the laundry basket. It was his rotation today, after all. Another irrelevant thought then came to mind, as he remembered how Teresa would urge him to gel his fringe up - but of course, he didn't see the appeal. That, and he couldn't be bothered. The girl had also urged him to wear black, square glasses; as far as he knew, his eyesight was fine, so what was the point?

Being snapped out of his thoughts regarding his shower, Teresa, Chuck, and the boys of Glade A, in that moment, the ringing of a bell came from downstairs.

Chuck pushed his laptop to the side, quickly grabbing the filled up bin bags, before rushing for his dinner – Thomas thanked him one final time as he heard the boys of Glade A thumping around and passionately yelling, in a desperate attempt to be one of the first to receive their food from Frypan and Newt. The cooking staff had left through the back doors of the Glade, since their job was done for today.

Thomas went back to looking out of the window with a smile, before pulling away from it. He quickly went over to his wardrobe, opening it and taking out one of his many shoulder bags.

As the particular black bag had his stationery for his first day (signifying that it was indeed his school bag), Thomas looked into it to see that his phone and phone charger were in there.

With a sigh of relief, the boy took the two and chucked the bag under his bunk, proceeding to lean over his bed, and plug his charger into the socket. He then began charging his phone, letting it rest on the bed.

There, now he could text Teresa and get back to her tomorrow. _Good thing he remembered_.

The boy then made his way back over to the window, admiring the night sky yet again.

It all seemed so surreal - just two days ago, he was fearful of which school he’d attend, and what would become of his studies. Yet, here he was – as hard as it was to believe, he was doing _fine_.

_Thomas was doing just fine._

“ ** _Tommy, you bloody Shank!_** ”

Instantly tensing up and flinching at both his nickname, as well as Newt’s voice, the boy turned around with a nervous smile, shutting the window cautiously.

“Newt, I---“

“Save it, Greenie! You’re havin’ the food myself, Frypan, and the staff have made this instant! We need you to help serve the boys, since they're going crazy down there!” Newt snapped - as he held a ladle, Thomas was trying to hold back his urge to laugh at the boy’s totally motherly getup – it’s a shame that he wasn’t wearing an apron, “I’ve been telling Frypan about you, and he’s pretty keen to meet you! So c’mon, get your butt downstairs, Greenie!”

“But I was just about to go to sleep---Chuck must have told you---“

“Of course Chuck told me! Why do you think I came up here otherwise?!” Newt interrupted sternly, “And you don’t seem tired for a guy who was, quoting Chuck, 'gazing dreamily out of the window'! If anything, one would think you’re getting off to the thought of your bloody girlfriend!”

Thomas’ face instantly flushed at such a suggestion, and Newt pointed behind his shoulder with a thumb, eyes squinted.

“ _Downstairs. Now._ ”

Letting out a defeated sigh, but still managing to smile at Newt’s friendly enthusiasm, Thomas turned away from the window. That is, before he turned his head back around to get a final glance of the outside.

Thomas then blinked and looked outside of the window yet again, attention now fully caught as he pressed both of his hands against the glass.

“Is that… _Minho?_ ” He questioned.

“…Nice try, Greenie; you’re not gonna fool me with---”

_It was._

“ ** _Newt, Newt, seriously!_** ” Thomas urged in realisation, gesturing for the boy to come over and look outside, too.

Newt abruptly made his way by the boy’s side, after blinking in surprise.

“It’s Minho! That’s Minho, right? Isn’t that bad? It’s past the curfew, right?! Look, there’s someone with him!“ Thomas continued on extensively, not knowing what to do.

“… _Oh shit._ ” Newt whispered, surprising Thomas to no end as he stared at the blond, eyes wide with worry.

“ _Newt?_ ”

“Those idiots are always on time, so why today? Shit, I knew something was up when Minho and Alby weren’t the first ones to come for their food...Fuck..."

Thomas looked around for some  sort of solution to the problem, before blinking in realisation.

“Wait---Alby? That’s the name of the guy down there with Minho?” He asked, causing Newt to roll his eyes at the obvious question; Thomas’ face flushed profusely, but he didn’t dote on it too much as he was fixated on what Minho was actually _doing_.

The guy seemed to be struggling with movement as he was carrying Alby, who was fully knocked out; Thomas faintly saw that Alby was a guy who was older than Minho, had dark skin, and a buzzcut.

“He’s a senior, and the head of Glade A,” Newt explained helplessly, “He's also the student government president at this school.” He added on quickly, and Thomas looked worriedly at the blond, “It’s 6:35…” He added on in a mutter, looking up at the clock. 

_The doors to the Glade were going to be locked in five minutes._

_That was when Thomas’ stomach churned._

He could see one of the Grievers in the distance, holding a flashlight and approaching Minho and Alby’s direction, wanting to lock the Glade for the night. The two boys were far from trying to access Glade A’s entrances, and at the speed Minho was moving both himself and Alby, Thomas knew the Griever would both see and catch them.

If only there was one more person there to help – just one, then they could probably, by some miracle, somehow... ** _make it_**.

“It’s over, they’re gonna get caught; _they're gonna get expelled_ … _that's what happens when you break the curfew._ " Newt stated dejectedly, running a hand through his hair out of desperation - he then bit down on his lip, pacing back and forth, not tearing his eyes away from the window, " _Fuck, fuck, fuck, **fuck!**_ "

Thomas' eyes widened at the information, before gulping.

“Wh---?!--- _Tommy!?_ **_HEY, THOMAS!_** ”

Before he knew it, Thomas had dashed out of the room.

Newt had missed the boy’s wrist by inches, in an attempt to grab and stop his pursuit.

With his sudden movement, totally ignoring Newt, Thomas had no clue what he was doing, let alone what he was getting himself into.

He was running as quickly as his legs could manage - with his heartbeat significantly increasing, he realised that he had now ran down two flights of stairs, and had burst one of the doors to enter Glade A open.

With the same sound of cars and cicadas, Thomas looked around and saw that a few benches were scattered around Glade A’s grounds, as well as some dimly lit, Victorian-styled street lights. The many trees and hedges also gave the place a sense of style.

Beginning to pant, Thomas peered into the distance to try and find Minho carrying Alby again; of course, having a 3 story view proved to be an upside, but now that Thomas stood on the flat surface, and looked out into the darkness, he was regretting his choice.

After a few seconds, he could just about make out the outlines of the two boys, with the small dot of light belonging to the Griever not far behind. Thomas wasted no time in running yet again – he didn’t know if it was for the sake of getting Minho and Alby out of trouble, or if _he_ _wanted_ to get into trouble – at any rate, he didn’t care.

‘ _Just have to get back to the dorms, just have to get back to the dorms..._ ’ He repeated to himself.

Thomas soon saw them much more clearly, the moonlight enabling him to see that Alby’s arm was around Minho’s neck, and his roommate was dragging the older guy’s body along, hand around his waist.

“ _Minho!_ ” Thomas whispered, jogging over to them.

In that moment, Minho couldn’t help but let go of Alby with heavy breaths, causing the Senior’s body to fall to the grassy ground – Thomas could also feel that his legs were about to give out, causing him to crouch down and breathe heavily.

After a minute of nothing but the sounds of cicadas, cars, and heavy breathing being heard, Minho spoke up.

“ _Good job…_ ” He panted out; Thomas looked up curiously at the guy, trying to catch his own breath, “ ** _You’ve just expelled yourself._** ”

“ _Wh—Whu--what?"_  Thomas asked in confusion; if he was being honest, he expected a reply like ‘good job for being a true mate’, or ‘good job, you’ve earned my respect’.

After seeing Minho shake his head in reply, he then quickly regained his posture.

“Look, never mind about that! We have to hurry back, right now!”

“ _Oh, really? **I didn’t realise it was way past curfew time** ,_” The taller boy snapped, sarcasm dripping from his voice as he motioned to pick Alby up again, putting the guy’s arm around his neck, “ _Just what are you doing here, anyway?_ ” He asked, eyes squinted as he looked at Thomas.

“No—I mean, there’s a Griever behind us! Well, you and Alby specifically, but now me as well, since I'm here!” Thomas offered, face flushed.

“Well---….” Minho was about to bite back with yet another sarcastic comment, until he took what Thomas was saying into account, cutting himself off, “…Are you being serious, Greenie?” He asked after a minute of thought.

“ ** _I told you, it’s_** **_Thomas---_** ”

“ ** _Seriously?!_** ” Minho snapped in interruption, asking his question yet again, causing the younger boy to flinch; Thomas then inspected Minho, who was still panting and had a determined look on his face, before sighing, giving a small nod, and replying with a ‘yup’.

“ _Ugh, shit!_ ” Minho sighed out, about to drop Alby until he gripped the guy’s shirt tightly, “ _Now we’re at risk of being found!_ ”

" _But we still have a chance of getting away with it! The doors haven’t been locked yet. We have under four minutes...That’s a good thing… just what happened, Minho?_ ”

“I’ll explain on the way.” 

* * *

“I was gonna shower when I left, but then I thought _'fuck it' -_  I went out to run again, when Alby showed up...” Minho began in explanation. It explained the hairdryer which was hung up by the side of a particular sink, although there was no one occupying the shower stalls when Thomas was there.

Minho and Thomas were now dragging Alby along, who was quietly groaning every few seconds; Thomas could tell that joining Minho in order to move Alby didn’t make the speed difference he thought it would.

As the two quietly whispered to one another, they didn't dare to look behind them, and at the dot of light in the distance.

Thomas could hear the Griever's faint voice, which made his heartbeat mess up slightly.

As they shifted Alby's body once in a while, or exchanged positions, trying to get a proper grip on him, Minho looked at Alby’s face with worry, before going back to looking straight ahead with a frown.

“We got a bit careless when we were running,” The boy continued, “The Shank was kinda drunk, too, given that he's going through some stuff - he hit his head on the concrete floor, so I think he's suffering from a concussion at the moment...doesn't have his phone on him, and neither do I - plus, there was no one around t' help...so I had to carry him.”

“ ** _Holy shit..._** ” Thomas breathed out, looking at Alby’s face; the guy was clean-shaven, and seemed to have a permanent scowl. The boy couldn't make out if there was a bump on the Senior's head or not, due to the position his head was resting in; plus, the moonlight made it difficult to determine what Thomas could see, as clear as he thought it made things before.

“We need to get his butt back to his dorm without any Grievers noticing,” Minho said, “Then we can call the nurse and just say he hit his head against the floor _indoors_ or something...she can take care of the rest…” He added on, causing Thomas to nod, "Fuckin' school...they won't pardon or take any excuses for defying the curfew...they just expel without a second thought."

When they had approached the Glade, their movements became far more cautious; Thomas couldn't help but increase his head movement, peering and looking out for any signs of danger, while Minho focused solely on getting to the doors, and moving as quietly as possible.

After agonisingly slow, tension filled seconds, they miraculously reached the doors - Thomas was just about to celebrate their victory, until his heart jumped out of his chest upon seeing another Griever – the man had appeared from behind the right side of the dorm building, and the boy saw that he held a flashlight in one hand, as his other held a black baton.

In that moment, Thomas and Minho rushed behind the left side of the Glade, fully raising Alby's body off of the ground in order to eliminate the sounds of his body being dragged along.

After gently laying Alby down to sit against the wall, to which he merely gave a quiet groan in reply, the two boys had just achieved the most reflexive type of movement they were capable of, as they panted heavily.

“ _Holy shit_ — _batons?!_ ” Thomas whispered, not believing it. The boy was crouched down yet again as he could hear the Griever was whistling, and had somehow not seen or heard them.

“Just in case any trespassers are found on the grounds, since this _is_ private property,” Minho explained, catching his breath as he was stood up in front of Thomas, “They patrol around Glade B and the school too, so it’s not just us.” He added on, “...Students who defy the curfew are sometimes mistaken as trespassers, so the Grievers chase ‘em, ready to beat them senseless…”

Thomas couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Of course, they have yet to accidentally hit any students," Minho carried on offhandedly, "The Slintheads who got chased just gave up and admitted they were out past curfew," He informed, continuing his quiet breaths, "A few good students've been expelled 'cause of the Grievers and the curfew...It’s crazy. _**They’re** crazy._ ”

“The Slintheads or Grievers?” Thomas asked in a mutter, digesting all of the information, "Knowing the risks and still defying the curfew means..."

“ _Both. But it's rare for someone to defy it._ ” Minho replied shortly, looking down at him, "If someone _does_ get away with defying it, which I dunno why anyone in their right mind would wanna do," The boy shot Thomas an accusatory look, "They either pay a shit ton of money to spend the night in a hotel, since everyone at this shuck school doesn't have any family around in this city, or ask a mate from the public schools to let 'em spend the night at theirs...which the kids' parents usually say no to...or they just party all night - which usually ends with them sneaking onto campus, calling one of us to open a window and let something down, so they can climb up. 'Course, most of 'em were caught. Students who help out and're caught get warnings, too."

Minho then let out a purposefully annoyed sigh, hands on his hips.

"You sound like you do this all the time...so I guess this makes us both Slintheads, then.” Thomas declared with a small smile, looking up at Minho, and wanting to lighten the mood.

“Don't be a stupid Greenie,” Minho retorted flatly, facial expression serious, “I'm in this situation 'cause of serious circumstances, and know what I'm talking about. _You,_ on the other hand..." He didn't finish off his sentence as he eyed Thomas for a few moments, " _D’you have a death wish or something, huh? Newt told you about the curfew, and what would happen if you defied it, right? So why’d you come out here?”_

Thomas didn’t really know how to reply – after a few seconds of thinking, staring over at Alby, he looked up and into Minho’s eyes.

“Well, Newt only mentioned something about being expelled...." The boy muttered, trailing off, "I get that this school is really strict on curfews - to the point that some kid could get expelled, because they lost track of time, or were out doing god knows what...But even if I knew about the batons beforehand, and the risks that followed, I guess I just can’t ignore people who need help.” He replied with a simple shrug.

Minho squinted an eye at the reply, not having anything to say.

"...Minho, wouldn’t calling a hospital straight away be better for Alby?“ Thomas added on in question, gesturing to the Senior.

After a second of silence, Minho perked up.

“Actually, Clint and Jeff are training to become doctors…they could help him out…they never slip up…” The older guy suggested, causing Thomas to frown.

“Wh—I thought you said to let the nurse take care of it? You’re gonna leave this to _students?!_ ” The boy asked in a hushed, desperate whisper, “And even if they never slip up, there’s a _chance_ they could!”

“Then they’re no different from an official doctor with qualifications, are they?” Minho asked with a smirk, “Besides, getting Clint and Jeff to do it will avoid getting into trouble, or making up some bullshit story, wouldn’t it?”

“ _Well yeah,_ but---“

Before Thomas could say any more, Minho immediately let out a groan of utter frustration, crouching down and grabbing Thomas' shirt - as the older boy pushed Thomas up against the Glade’s wall roughly, the boy let out a small wince as Alby was sat a few inches away from the two, breathing silently.

“ _Listen to me, **Shuckface** ,_” Minho spat, _“Take a look **around** ; we've_  _nowhere **to go. We’ve got two Grievers on our asses, and we have no way of getting inside - the one we just saw already locked the front doors, as well as the back doors, linked to the kitchens. And the one behind us is just another one patrolling around. So unless you have any smart ideas, I don’t want to hear your complaints against my decisions.**_ ” He added on in a quiet growl, making sure to enunciate every word.

As his warm breath hit against Thomas’ skin, the Greenie was left speechless as he stared vulnerably into the older boy’s eyes, lips parted – Thomas could only hold Minho's wrists in an attempt to calm him down, and get him to let go of his shirt – a few seconds of silence had passed (with the exception of their quiet panting), until Minho let go roughly, standing up yet again, his back turned to face Thomas.

"... ** _You just don't get it, you stupid Greenie. We're already expelled_ _._** " Minho huffed out quietly, looking down at the floor.

“… ** _Alright, alright, just calm down_** …” Thomas muttered lowly, now sitting down on the floor, “So what do we do? How do we get in, and let Clint and Jeff take care of Alby?”

Minho's lack of reply spoke for itself - as the boy's back was still facing Thomas, it was clear that the runner had lost all hope at this point, which caused Thomas to roll his eyes; was this guy _really_ a genius?

After a while of thinking in deep thought, Thomas' eyes widened in recognition - he stood up and turned around, taking a few steps back to fully inspect the Glade.

Seeing that the building had more than 5 floors, and the many windows were all aligned neatly around all of its sides, the boy realised that the first floor windows could possibly be climbed through. They were kind of low, but not so much. Minho's head was turned halfway to look at him, his eyebrow cocked.

“Minho, we could climb through one of the first floor windows,” Thomas addressed frantically, gesturing to the window in front of them; the two could see the first floor’s lights were on, and no one seemed to be walking past, "But we'll need the help of the others to pull us up."

“We can’t open it from the outside, and they have automatic locks on them. After the curfew, there no way of opening them.” Minho replied sceptically, his arms folded.

Thomas absorbed the information, wondering what else they could do.

"And even if we knock on the windows, I doubt any of those Shanks would hear to try and help - I also doubt that they're gonna walk past - they're either still stuffing their faces with food, watching TV, or playin' a dumb game in the living room." Minho continued on with a huff.

"Well, what about the other windows?"

"The other windows _are_ unlocked, but we can't reach them. They're too high. Unless you have your phone on you, so we can call those shanks to let something down for us to climb."

"I don't..."

"Great. It wouldn't work, anyway. We wouldn't be able to pull Alby up, the way he is."

“... _Then we have no choice but to break one of the first floor windows."_

“ ** _Seriously?!_** ”

“ _Seriously._ ” Thomas affirmed, rigidly nodding his head, “Dude, _Alby could be in danger! Do you really want to risk that over a shuckin’ **window**?_ ” He asked, "We're running out of time, too. The grievers will probably come around here while patrolling."

After a few seconds of silence, Minho stared at Thomas, causing the shorter boy to notice that he had subconsciously used Maze Runner slang.

Instantly covering his mouth in embarrassment at the fact that, as a new kid, he had no right to use the slang until he fitted in, he saw that Minho closed his eyes and let out a sigh.

“…Okay, Greenie. _You da’ boss._ ” The older guy replied with a smile, looking into Thomas’ eyes, hands held up in defeat; Thomas couldn’t help but blink in surprise, removing his hands from his mouth to return the smile after a few seconds, feeling a sense of accomplishment.

“ _Thanks, Minho."_

* * *

“Okay, we’ll smash the window on the count of three, right?” Thomas asked.

“Right.” Minho replied with a nod.

“When we do that, we’ll grab Alby and quickly hide behind the Glade - I'll quickly try the back doors linked to the dorm kitchens, to see if they're open - but like you said, they're most likely locked." Thomas stated, before continuing on, "The Grievers will obviously run to this side to see what happened - and most likely, the guys of Glade A will also stop whatever they’re doing, and approach the window to see what the sound was, which makes it even better,” He added on, “Now if what you say is true, the Grievers will unlock the front doors of the Glade to come inside, and while they’re doing that, we can come back here, and climb through the window with the guys’ help, and blend in whilst Clint and Jeff take Alby. In the end, the Grievers will probably assume trespassers got through, since we’ll all be denying having anything to do with it.” 

“Sounds like a safe plan,” Minho replied with a smirk, “You’re quite the smart one, aren’t ‘cha?”

Thomas couldn’t stop himself from letting out a small, nervous laugh as his face flushed.

“Ready?” He asked, and Minho nodded, grabbing two rocks to completely shatter the window. The taller boy began repeatedly throwing them up into the air and catching them, his movements swift.

“As ready as I’ll ever be, baby.”

Thomas couldn't help but snort as he rolled his eyes, internally cringing at Minho's use of the word 'baby'. The boy then grabbed Alby’s legs, getting a head start on dragging him behind the Glade; after the deafening crash of glass could be heard, before Thomas knew it, Minho was by his side, heaving Alby up as he held the Senior by his arms alone. The two boys worked as fast as they could, placing Alby down behind the Glade; they then plopped down on the grassy floor, sat next to each other and catching their breaths yet again. Thomas could hear the two Grievers jogging towards where they just were.

“ ** _What in the blazing hell was that!?_** ” One of them asked from the distance.

Thomas looked over at Minho to see that the boy was mischievously smirking, droplets of sweat on his forehead shining in the moonlight. The boy couldn't help but look down at Minho's muscles; he noticed how every time Minho would breathe in, they would tense up, and every time he breathed out, they would relax. Thomas then quickly shook his head, crawling towards the back doors of the Glade, linked to the dorm kitchens - he noticed the large dumpster bins, before giving the doors a few strong, silent pulls; just like he thought - locked up real tight. He quickly made his way back towards Minho's side.

“ _A rock!?_ ”

“ _Must’ve been one of those trespassers again!_ ”

“ ** _Is anyone out there!?_** ”

“ _There’s no point in calling out to them and checking! They always manage to disappear!_ ” The other insisted, and Thomas let out a sigh of relief at that.

“ ** _What the bloody hell was that?!_** ”

Thomas' shoulders then tensed up at Newt’s voice coming from behind the window, and sure enough, all of the boys of Glade A were now asking questions, as the Grievers tried to calm them down.

“ ** _A rock?! Holy klunk!_** ”

“ _Will you boys please calm down?!_ ” One of the Grievers asked sternly.

“ _It had better not have been any of you buggers!_ ” The other Griever threatened.

“ _The rock was thrown through the window from the outside! Of course it wasn’t us!_ ” Newt snapped.

“ _And besides, who would throw a rock around indoors?_ ” Gally added on, tone as obnoxious as ever and filled with disgust.

“ _We’re coming in to fix it!_ ” The Griever replied, ignoring the two and their protests, “ _None of you have been hurt, right?_ ”

“Woah, I’m surprised Gally hasn’t blown my cover…” Thomas muttered, causing Minho to snigger. The boy then cocked an eyebrow at the guy's gesture.

"What's so funny?" He asked.

“Nah, just thinkin' that it's probably 'cause he knows I’m within your radius.” Minho replied.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Thomas replied with a roll of his eyes, causing the taller boy to snigger yet again.

When the sounds of the two security guards jogging over to the front doors of the Glade could be heard, Minho and Thomas grabbed Alby yet again, dragging him over to the now-shattered window on the left side of the Glade. The multiple door locks would take a while to unlock - Thomas knew that much. The grievers had loads of keys on them, too.

“ ** _You guys owe me big time._** ” Newt stated.

As the blond peered down sternly at Thomas and Minho from behind the window, arms folded, a shiver of fear was sent down the Greenie’s spine.

“Thanks, Newt.” Thomas said with a nervous smile.

“Tommy, I swear on the God of Slintheads, you are the biggest Slinthead of all! Just what were you thinking?!”

“I—"

 _“Look at the Greenie.”_ One voice said.

 _“So this is the infamous Thomas, huh?”_ Another voice asked.

_“Take a good look.” One said to the other._

_“Looks like a runner.”_

_"No shit. The guy ran outta the Glade like a madman to help Alby and Minho."_

_“Kudos to you, my man."_

_"Not even been a full day since he's arrived."_

_"Let alone his first day."_

"I just had to spread the word! Thomas, that was amazing!" Chuck beamed, clapping excitedly.

"Sorry, Tommy, but I had to tell Chuck. Besides, everyone would've found out sooner or later." Newt said flatly, although his tone didn't say he was sorry.

Wow, he really was angry; considering that Thomas did break the rule which the blond made sure to enunciate not to break, he couldn't really blame him. In that moment, Thomas knew how much Newt cared about him - he'd have to make it up somehow. Just an apology wouldn't do.

The boy then felt himself on slight edge at the boys of Glade A staring down at him and making comments, a few sniggers being heard; having the sudden urge to start running away from the boys, he then jumped at Minho placing his hand firmly on his shoulder.

“Like y'all said, he defied the curfew,” Minho interrupted, “Now can you Shanks stop staring at him like you’ve just experienced love at first sight, and help us out here? Alby’s kinda dyin’, if you hadn’t noticed.”

The boys of Glade A were all snapped out of their trance at Minho's dominant tone, as they began to scramble around in surprise.

As a few boys cleaned some of the shards of glass, Newt and two other boys began pulling the three of them up one by one. Of course, Alby was first - Minho and Thomas held him up. Then came Thomas, then finally, Minho.

“We need Clint and Jeff right now.” Minho ordered after patting himself down; multiple questions and variations of the same questions were asked by the boys: ‘what happened?’, ‘why’s Alby knocked out?’, ‘is he okay?’, ‘will he be okay?’.

The two medical students then approached, wanting to know the situation.

Jeff was a skinny yet well-built boy in Thomas’ opinion, with a growing afro and dark skin, whereas Clint was a short, chubby boy, with curly hair – he could’ve been passed off as Chuck’s older brother when Thomas thought about it.

"Damage?" Jeff asked simply, crouching down as he inspected Alby, checking his pulse.

"Hit his head on the concrete while drunk and got knocked the shuck out," Minho replied, causing Clint to wince with a small 'ouch'.

"Yeah, well, that's a risk when you go out runnin' drunk...buggin' shank had it coming. And he's not even part of the runnin' team; who the bloody hell does he think he is?" Newt muttered sourly; Thomas got a feeling that Newt was  _extremely_ worried, even if his tone said differently - the blond was frowning as he was biting down on the nail of his thumb, after all.

"Must be a minor concussion," Jeff concluded, "He isn't bleeding, so let's see what we can do," He said, looking at Clint; the boy affirmed with a nod, "I think that calling the nurse and informing her of the injury is something we'll do, though; just to be on the safe side. But don't worry," He reassured, turning to Thomas, "We won't bring you or Minho into the picture."

Thomas blinked and nodded in recognition with a meek 'thanks'.

"Just say that he slipped and hit his head in the shower," Minho instructed, to which both Clint and Jeff gave a nod, "She'll start bitchin' at us if we tell her the truth."

"Got drunk on site, got hurt, and broke the curfew 'cause of his injury..damn, what a damage to his rep," One of the boys said; a few others muttered in agreement.

The two medical students wasted no time in having Alby carried to their dorm room by two other boys with much more muscle than them. Thomas was even more surprised to see that Newt had gone off with them, causing Minho to inform him that Newt and Alby have been friends since kindergarten. Something about them being penpals, since Newt was in England at the time, only to meet in person until the blond's freshman year.

' _Well that explains a lot,'_ Thomas thought. 

By the time the Grievers had come in, Thomas and Minho were stood by each other’s sides, sending looks to the other from time to time; as the two men asked questions, patching the broken window up with layers of thick, clear plastic, as well as duct tape (both retrieved from the resource cupboard on the first floor), the glass was being swept up and disposed of by a few boys.

“Like we said, we haven’t done anything!” Gally snapped for a final time, arms folded in an attempt to size the Grievers up, “You’d think I’m speakin’ plain English!”

“Look, whatever, kid. I’m exhausted, so we’ll just _assume_ it was a trespasser.” One of the men replied hazily, yawning.

“Good job at doing your job...” Thomas muttered sarcastically, and Minho couldn't help but snort. The boy was surprised, however, at Gally's acting skills - the guy must've looked up to Alby or something, otherwise he wouldn't be covering for Thomas; Minho was an exception, since the boy knew Gally was scared klunkless of him.

When the two men had left, making extra sure to lock the doors again, the boys had all dispersed until Thomas, Chuck, and Minho were the only ones left standing in the hall; that is, until Thomas was approached by a beefy-looking Senior who had a full beard, dark skin, and growing afro. The guy looked between Minho and Thomas with a grin.

"So, you're Thomas---Uh, _Tommy,_ huh?" He asked, causing Thomas to gulp as his face flushed red. Chuck covered his mouth to stop a laugh from escaping, as did Minho - of course, it only made Thomas flush even more, "I've heard a lot 'bout you from Newt!"

' ** _Oh, c'mon. Give me a break._** '

Minho couldn't help but, in the end, let out a laugh at Thomas' mannerisms, patting his back; seriously, was Newt _ever_ going stop calling him 'Tommy'? A part of him wanted to believe that he would, but his common sense insisted otherwise.

"Shuckface, this is 'Siggy', better known as 'Frypan'," Minho introduced, "Real name, 'Toby'."

Thomas blinked in surprise - he was relatively shocked at the mention of Frypan's real name.

"How you been, man?" Minho asked the taller guy with a grin.

"Had better days," Frypan replied casually, fist bumping Minho with a smile, "What 'bout you?" He asked, before turning to look at Chuck with a warm smile, "And hey, Chuck; you good?"

"I'm good!" Chuck beamed in reply.

"Eh, y'know - been runnin' all day every day. Suits me."

"I can tell; you're gettin' toned **_as_**." Frypan complimented, causing Minho to grin - he then turned to Thomas with a smile, "'Aye, I've gotta say, what you did was crazy, but I salute you, man. I think Minho here should give you a space on the runnin' team, and I'm bein' legit."

_Thomas couldn't help but register what Frypan had said deeply._

Minho cocked an eyebrow sceptically at the mention, arms folded; Chuck, of course, gasped at the mention, wasting no time in clutching Minho's arm, beginning to shake him back and forth.

"Oh my gosh, you so totally should, Minho!" The younger boy beamed, "Let Thomas on the team! Minho, you listenin'?! Seriously, what Thomas did for you an' Alby was amazing! The least you could do is let him on the team! Hey, Minho? Minho, hey!"

"Dude, _let go of me_."

"T-thanks..." Thomas replied sincerely, ignoring both Chuck and Minho, "I really appreciate it." He added on with a small smile, causing Frypan to return it. 

"My pleasure, dude! Now, let’s feed you shanks dinner.”

“No way---we have some left over!?” Minho asked in disbelief, shaking Chuck off of him.

“ _Yeah, Newt's special recipe; he kept some 'specially for you both! Also, he told me to tell you guys that you can't leave until you finish it all. The guy just knew y'all would make it."_

“ ** _Oh, shit._** ” Was Minho’s reply, causing Thomas to blink curiously. 

* * *

“ ** _Lights out!_** ” A voice resounded throughout the 3rd floor of the Glade; Thomas, sat on his bed cross-legged, could hear the same thing being said on the other floors of the building as the hallway lights were turned off.

In the end, whether he had wanted to or not, Thomas had spent the last three hours of free time to get to know the boys of Glade A; most of the boys were sat in the living room on the first floor, either watching TV, playing card games, or talking to one another.

Gally and his group of friends weren't present, which played a significant role when it came to Thomas' relaxation. Chuck was by the boy's side the entire time, chattering away about a variety of things; mostly giving an insight as to who the boys of Glade A consisted of, who was part of which clique, and what they were like. However, Thomas couldn’t really remember or register everything that the boy was saying all that well, due to the fatigue of running and travelling kicking in.

Minho was gone for the first 20 minutes as he rushed to take his shower as soon as they had finished eating.

When he did arrive, he sat with his fellow runners, almost as though he was ignoring Thomas' presence. Although, a few of the runners kept on looking at Thomas with a smirk, before whispering something to Minho, who would look at Thomas in inspection, causing Thomas to awkwardly stare back.

Newt had made an appearance later on, after sitting by Alby's bedside. Sitting with both Thomas and Chuck, the blond informed Thomas that the senior had woken up, but was still suffering from a slight headache, meaning the minor concussion diagnosis was true. Jeff and Clint really were amazing, Thomas couldn't help but think. In the end, the nurse came after having the Glade's doors unlocked for the 2nd time that night, and took Alby away for overnight monitoring, which Thomas was glad to hear.

Most of the Gladers (as Chuck liked to refer to the boys as) came up to Thomas and complimented him about defying the curfew - as much as he appreciated their effort and good-will to make conversation, Thomas felt as though he couldn't click with them the way he had done with Chuck and Newt; Minho was an entirely different matter.

However, the boy enjoyed speaking to them, and felt like they were rather friendly and welcoming. Of course, the Gladers were all curious as to where Thomas was before his transfer, and why he came to Maze Runner; when faced with the question, Thomas gave a nervous laugh with a reply of _'a really crappy public school no one's heard of; it's shut down now, so that's why I came here'_.

After replaying the kaleidoscope of memories he had obtained throughout the day in his mind, Thomas remembered Newt's cooking, and he instantly clutched his stomach.

“ _Ugh…why didn’t you tell me…Newt was a terrible cook?_ ” He whispered to Chuck, feeling a sense of betrayal when the plump boy had begun to laugh at him, sat on his own bed.

“ ** _He is? I never noticed._** ” Newt commented with a smile, finishing off a piece of his homework, typing away at his laptop. The blond sat at the desk against the brick wall and between the two bunks; so this desk belonged to Newt - it did explain the mugs with leftover scents of tea, Thomas thought. Very British. 

The Greenie knew that Chuck didn't have a desk, since, apart from Newt's, there were no other ones in sight; plus, Chuck said that he usually does his work on the coffee table. Thomas made sure to offer the boy to use his when it arrived, and Chuck was, of course, thrilled.

Considering Minho's intelligence, Thomas knew the guy didn't need one, so he left it at that.

The boy was then snapped out of his thoughts and flinched, laughing nervously at the fact that Newt had heard him.

“Sorry, Newt, but the Shank’s right,” Minho added on with a snigger, sat on the top bunk, legs dangling off of the side.

“Like I keep telling you, it's _Thomas!_ ”

“That was your form of punishment.” The boy continued on, ignoring Thomas, who merely grumbled in discontent to himself.

“Use your weaknesses to your advantage, that’s what I always say.” The blond replied calmly, and Minho couldn’t help but roll his eyes with a reply of ‘cheesy Shank’, “Anyway, I’m turnin’ the lights off now, g’night.”

“Night.” Said Minho. The boy slept on top of the covers in a starfish-like position, hands behind his head as he let out a prolonged sigh of relief.

“Night, night!” Chuck said with a laugh. Thomas saw that the boy slept in a log-like position under his covers, causing him to smile.

“Good night…” Thomas said, still sat up on the bed.

After the lights were turned off, Newt made his way up the bunk bed’s ladder, causing a bunch of creaks to be heard. When the blond had settled under his covers in a freefalling-position, Thomas looked out of the window from where he was sat.

After ten minutes of thinking about nothing in particular, he wondered how Teresa and his mother were doing.

“Hey, Greenie, try not to kick my bed in your sleep,” Minho commented with a smirk, snapping Thomas out of his trance – he saw that the older guy was hanging upside down from the top bunk to look at him, the blue fairy lights defining his facial features clearly in the darkness.  
  
“I’ll try, but I often have these dreams where some shank is pissing me off, and the only way to get rid of him is to kick his ass. _Hard._ ”

“...You’re totally jacked, dude.”  
  
“You think?”  
  
“I don’t think. _I know_.”   
  
“Can you two buggin’ shanks stop your romantic midnight chat and go to sleep already!? The stress I've suffered from today thanks to you two and Alby has me exhausted!” Newt groaned as he shifted in his bunk, causing it to creak, resulting in a content sigh from Chuck, as he snuggled up with his sheets.  
  
Thomas stared up in disbelief at Newt, who seemed to have already slipped back into his trance; it was clearly Minho’s fault for starting it. Thomas couldn’t help but shake his head, getting under the covers and laying his head down on the pillow, back now facing Minho; it was relatively comfortable – a bit unfamiliar, but the boy knew he’d get used to it sooner or later.

“ _Psst! Hey, Greenie!_ ”

Thomas blinked at the direct address and turned back around to look at Minho, facial expression unamused.

“ _What?_ ”

“I dunno if you’re brave…or just stupid,” Minho began, causing Thomas to roll his eyes with a quiet mutter of ‘gee thanks’, “But me and Alby owe you. So, uh…thanks. And welcome to the Glade.”


	3. First Runner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧Hey there, dear readers! Wow, it's been ages since I've updated, omfg (blame school, ahaha;;). It actually took me around two weeks to finish this chapter off, so please enjoy it!~:･ﾟ✧

Staying awake was a total breeze for Thomas on the first night of his arrival.

The boy had found himself staring up at the bottom of Minho’s bunk for quite a while, yet again thinking about nothing in particular – from time to time, the sounds of shifting and creaks filled up the otherwise tranquil room, coming from Newt and Chuck’s direction mostly. In Minho’s case, it would be small movements, or tired grunts. The cicadas still hadn't given their crying a rest, but Thomas didn't mind – in fact, it soothed him enough to feel slightly sleepy, as did the sight of the blue fairy lights, which dimly illuminated the room.

The thoughts about nothing remained, until Minho’s words of gratitude and welcome came to mind, which, Thomas wasn't going to lie, did take him by surprise. After the older guy had said such a thing, it was left at that, and Minho proceeded to go to sleep – in Thomas’ case, Minho was doing him a favour by not letting him reply. He wouldn't know how. In general, when it came to both Minho’s personality and personal life, Thomas didn't really know anything, now that he thought about it. It had been only half a day since they met, after all.

_And yet they had broken the curfew together - choice or no choice._

Eventually, Thomas took the Grievers, the Gladers, and everything that ensued on the Sunday into account – he also made sure to recite his apology text to send to Teresa tomorrow, when his phone had fully recharged - it took forever to charge, given that it was an old model, and he was given it as a present by his mother.

As a result, Thomas eventually drifted off at the thought of her, sleeping for what seemed like an eternity.

* * *

Despite staying awake being a total breeze for Thomas, the boy knew that waking up proved to be a challenge, which was a very different thing in comparison - especially when he was greeted by Gally’s ugly, scowling face first thing in the morning, with his nose looking as deformed as ever.

The younger boy was peering down at him, and Thomas hadn’t even registered such a fact after twenty full seconds of squinting his eyes, as well as rubbing them to get both a clearer and closer look.

“ _Day one, Greenie. Rise and shine._ ” Gally began, the boy’s voice as unpleasant and scratchy as ever. The Greenie both flinched and blinked in shock at the fact that he wasn't dreaming.

“ ** _WHOAHOLY SHIT!_** ” Thomas yelled out in a panic, scrambling around to sit up in his bed, covering his chest with his covers, facial expression that of terror, “GALLY, DON’T DO THAT! _You almost gave me a heart attack!_ ” He called out, pointing.

Thomas then began to rapidly look around the room, senses heightened - noticing that Newt wasn't anywhere to be seen, and he couldn't feel Minho’s presence, he felt slightly uneasy. However, he could see that Chuck was fast asleep, lightly snoring. Thomas then proceeded to look over at the window to see that a few hints of orange were becoming visible in the dark blue sky.

“Ugh, Jesus, just what time is it, anyway?” He groaned, calming down significantly as he let go of his covers, and grabbed his hair in an attempt to ease his throbbing headache with a wince.

“Real shame that I didn’t give you one, Shank. _Now get up._ ” The younger boy ignored, arms folded as he frowned, clearly irritated. Thomas blinked in realisation that it was almost like Gally didn’t want to be here.

“What---why?” The Greenie asked in confusion, cocking an eyebrow.

“Saw Minho on his way to set up running practise half an hour ago - he told me to make sure you wake up before 6:00am. He says you should check out all of the clubs starting their morning practises - see if you’re interested in joining any of them.”

“Oh…Wait---” Thomas turned around to tap on his phone and check the time.

It was 5:30am now.

If Thomas recalled correctly, Newt had said that morning practise starts at 6:00am on both weekdays and weekends for the clubs; turning his phone off yet again, he looked up at Gally.

“So Minho always goes to running practise an hour before it officially starts?” He enquired.

“You’re real green if you think being the Keeper of The Runners doesn’t mean you need to set up new running courses for your team to do during practises in the span of an hour. _Every. Single. Day._ Not to mention the use of fitness rooms and such.” Gally replied offhandedly.

“Oh…he must be really busy...but…Minho? Why would he say that? Like, why does he even care?” Thomas added on in question, head tilted.

“Like I shuckin’ know!” Gally snapped, “The dude’s been breathin’ down my neck ever since you appeared!” He informed, “I was just told by him to come and wake you for choosing a club or some shit!”

“Thanks, but…I can take care of myself…” Thomas replied steadily, eyes squinted.

“Pft, then tell him that!” Gally retorted accusingly.

“Oh, but I really appreciate the sentiment, though. Even if Minho drove you to it...” Thomas replied quietly.

Gally merely kissed his teeth with a reply of ‘whatever’ as he left the dorm, muttering to himself, hands in his pockets. After watching the boy walk off, Thomas couldn’t help but shake his head, laughing softly as he kicked the covers off of his legs, and proceeded to gather his showering supplies.

* * *

Upon entering the showers, Thomas saw that Newt was stood in front of one of the sinks, casually brushing his teeth as he absently looked into the mirror positioned above it.

Thomas wondered if he should approach the blond with caution; the British boy had begun scratching his leg with the other,  as his baggy dark blue tracksuit bottoms showed themselves off. The neck of his short sleeved, far too large grey t shirt also hung off of his right shoulder, revealing his collarbone.  
  
"Oh, mornin', Tommy," Newt greeted after a blink of realisation, head turned to the side to look over at the boy; his voice was muffled as he continued brushing his teeth, turning his head back around.

"Morning.." Thomas greeted, making his way over to one of the showers, placing all of his supplies in its compartments. He then abruptly made his way over to Newt’s side, hanging his hairdryer on a hook, toothbrush and toothpaste in hand. A few other Gladers were already awake, occupying some of the showers and sinks as they conversed.

"I was just about to come and wake you," The blond informed, before leaning down and gathering water into his mouth, rinsing. After wiping of his mouth with his forearm, turning the sink off, he placed his toothbrush down - Newt then looked over at Thomas with a smile, "But I see that you've already beaten me to it."

"Oh, well, yeah...Gally, actually, believe it or not," Thomas replied, scratching his head, "The guy woke me up and told me that I should check out all of the clubs starting their morning practises, see if I'm interested in joining any of them." He added on in explanation, missing out the mention of Minho.

"Good that. I was going to wake you up for the same reason, so we can go and check them out together," Newt replied with a satisfied nod – the boy’s mannerism struck Thomas as odd, considering the fact that Newt knew how much Gally hated Thomas’ guts; maybe he already knew that Minho intimidated the guy into it, "The guys involved in morning practises should be wakin’ up in ten minutes or so. Chuck still asleep?" He asked.

"Like a baby," Thomas replied with a slight grin, "When Gally woke me up, he scared me half to death…I kind yelled out in fear, but Chuck was knocked out cold and didn't react."

"Hah, figures. The wee little fat shank isn't part of any clubs, so I guess it's alright to let him sleep until the others wake up for breakfast." Newt said with a smile, "And here I thought you wouldn't have gotten a wink of sleep considering your circumstances - you know, since it's your first day of school, and all. _How you doin' taking that fact in, by the way?_ "

"Oh, believe me, I've only gotten an hour or two of sleep at most," Thomas replied with a nervous laugh, "And yeah, I mean, some of the Gladers I met were nice, so I'm not really worried. But if I had to pick something to be worried about, it's most definitely the teachers."

"Pft, you're such a Greenie."

“The one and only.” 

* * *

“Tommy?”

No reply.

“Hello? Earth to Tommy? Shankiest Shank to ever roam this Earth?”

Yet again no reply.

“ _Thomas, man!_ ”

Thomas instantly jolted at the sudden address, almost allowing his phone to slip out of his hands then and there; he instantly tightened his grip on the device, letting out a sigh of relief. Trust Newt to catch him off guard.

After showering and changing his clothes to a casual red tartan shirt, as well as jeans (Newt urging him to hurry up throughout the entire process, given the fact that he had finished his shower and got changed far quicker than Thomas), he proceeded to grab his school bag from under his bed and put it over his shoulder, noticing how Chuck remained fast asleep as he did so, and how he had yet to contact Teresa.

As himself and Newt (who wore a smart, patterned jumper, as well as pastel-coloured button up shirt) made their way out of Glade A, Thomas was instantly occupied with contacting Teresa as soon as possible, Newt chattering away in the background, pointing out the statues scattered around the school grounds, and how they were relevant to the history of Maze Runner or something.

Of course, considering it was 6:00am, and Teresa was undoubtedly asleep back at WICKED, Thomas didn’t expect an instant reply – in fact, it gave him enough time to write out a heartfelt apology, which he thought she was due. 

_‘Teresa, I’m real sorry for not telling you anything, and leaving WICKED so suddenly. Also for not texting you straight away. You’re probably mad at me, and I don’t blame you.'_

_'Look, I can’t tell you the real reason as to why I got kicked out of WICKED yet.'_

_'The students are probably spreading a bunch of rumours on the down low, saying that I attacked Spilker, right?'_

_'I want you to know that I tackled him out of self defence.'_

_'No one apart from Ava Paige, Spilker, Janson, and my mom know the full story.'_

_'Listen, Ava Paige isn’t what she seems. So please, just stay away from her for now, minimalize any contact with her, and don’t cause an uproar.'_

_'When I finally get my hands on a laptop, we can skype each other and I’ll explain it all. '_

_'Make sure you’re in a desolate place when we do.‘_

“W—Wh—yeah, s-sorry.” Thomas replied in an apologetic stutter, looking up from his phone and at the blond. Newt cocked an eyebrow, his head tilted.

“Just who you textin’ anyway, huh, Tommy?” He asked curiously; the boy then abruptly smirked as soon as Thomas was about to reply, “Oh, your girlfriend, eh?”

Thomas could feel his face flush as he looked away, denying it profusely, and mentally relieved at the fact that Newt didn't read the text over his shoulder.

“N-No...a childhood friend.”

“Who just so happens to be a girl.” Newt pointed out far too obviously, the smirk detectable in his tone alone. Thomas couldn’t help but squint his eyes at Newt in annoyance, putting his phone in his trouser pocket.

“Yeah...” Thomas replied in a mutter, readjusting the strap of his shoulder bag.

“ _And is your friend?_ ” The blond pressed on further.

“ _Dude._ ”

Newt merely replied with a snigger as they continued walking around.

Inspecting the morning practises proved to be a chore; there truly was a variety of stuff going on in Maze Runner.  Plus, Newt listed what notable championships the clubs took part in almost all too casually, causing Thomas to stare in disbelief.

As the two boys made their way around the school grounds and fields, mostly inspecting the sports clubs, Newt gave detailed descriptions as to who players were, who played what position, and what string they were currently in – Thomas noticed that some of the Gladers he was introduced to yesterday were in the clubs, but he had found it difficult to remember their names. Of course, he had no clue who the girls in the clubs were, but the boy was pretty keen on listening as to what Newt had to say about them.

Eventually, Thomas was both repeatedly and unwillingly dragged over to the clubs by Newt, and forced to introduce himself to them all, much to his utter dismay - Gladers he hadn’t seen and gotten the chance to speak to yesterday couldn’t help but discreetly compliment and cheer him on regarding the 1st floor window of Glade A, knowing that trouble would be ahead for the boy, should any adult with authority over the students find out. Thomas’ face flushed as he was welcomed by the adults and girls, too - trust the school to spread news like wildfire; a few of the girls knew about his heroic act, and had begun giggling.

By the time they had inspected most of the clubs, it was 6:30am, and Thomas had befriended many people - the two were on the verge of reaching the running track, quite a bit of fog present. After a few minutes, Newt had managed to spot the running team practising in the distance, and wasted no time in continuing to make his way, Thomas by his side as he followed suite.

“So, Newt…” The boy began, looking down as he fumbled with his hands.

“Hm?”

"Yesterday you said that you're an ex-runner, right?"

"... _What about it?_ "

The fact that Newt had stopped walking and paused caused Thomas to look over at him in slight surprise, his stomach moths reappearing far too quickly; it was his first official day as a student, and he was already being nosy, making his peers feel uncomfortable – Thomas could only mentally kick himself.

"Well, was it...difficult? _Being a runner, I mean_..." The Greenie continued, asking somewhat awkwardly as he made sure to carefully choose his words in reluctance, sneaking a few glances towards the blond while continuing to fumble with his hands.  
  
Newt thought for a minute in silence, unable to notice Thomas’ mannerisms as he held his chin in thought.

"Well, before I got my limp and couldn't run anymore, no." He replied simply, laughing at his own joke - Thomas could only reply with a weak laugh in return, "But no, seriously, I don’t think it was as difficult as it is now - Minho wasn’t the Keeper when I was part of the team, after all. I stopped running near the end of freshman year, so it was…around two years ago." He added on, causing Thomas to blink and tilt his head slightly in curiosity.

"But anyway, after I got my precious ol' limp here,” Newt began, gesturing to his leg as he continued on walking, “I couldn't just up and leave the sport, you know? So I stuck around for a bit; still do, in fact. Watch the team practise, and stuff. Coach respects me, knowing how hard I’ve worked, so he doesn't mind. Havin' a limp is swell, lemme tell you." He said with a cheeky smirk, turning his head slightly to look over at Thomas.

"S-So are you part of another club now, or…?"

"I usually just watch the runners and do tutoring, so no, I’m not. But call me the manager of the running team, if you will."

Thomas merely nodded in reply.

"After I had to quit the team, and began spectating, Minho worked his way up to becoming the fastest runner throughout this entire school. Of course, he outran everyone at the beginning of sophomore year. The seniors, the juniors, the fellow sophomores, the freshmen – they were all outrun by him. Even the coach. So he was given the captain title as a sophomore."

“... _Holy shit._ "

"Indeed,” Newt affirmed with a nod, arms folded as he looked straight ahead of him and at the running team, “As Keeper of The Runners, he’s basically in charge of anything he wants to be regarding the club. His training regime for the runners is the hardest shit I've ever laid eyes upon.  He sets up and plans new running courses, as well as obstacles for the team every day – so of course, he’s always here an hour before morning practise starts, to keep the ideas fresh. I'm always with him to help book fitness rooms and stuff, too, but yesterday really exhausted me, hence why I'm not with him right now. He really cares."

“…Woah.”

In that moment, Thomas knew that Minho was amazing – there wasn’t a shred out doubt in his conscience regarding such a fact. The looks, the intelligence, the authority – they were all elements of what made up a generic high school jock.

Of course, Thomas knew those types of people all too well at WICKED; they hadn’t made his life a misery, but he witnessed their process in doing so to other students. However, something told the boy that Minho was different; even if he did have those generic, jock-like aspects to him, he was an unpredictably good guy. Thomas kind of liked him.

The boy then abruptly snapped out of his thoughts after they had approached the extended running track, which continued for what seemed like an eternity, structured as a circular course with multiple bleachers placed alongside the field. He could only stare in awe at such a huge space.

“Of course, the school funds all of the space, since Minho’s won so many championships.” Newt commented with a smirk, looking over at Thomas, who was still too busy taking the sight in.

“Yeah, no kidding.” The Greenie replied, now directing his attention towards the members of the running team – many were racing around the courses and against each other, some were practising their relays, others were leaping over obstacles, and the rest were either stretching, or doing simple weight lifting.

In such cold weather conditions, not to mention first thing in the morning, Thomas could only wonder what drove them to it. Especially in Minho’s case.

“ ** _Oh, what d’you have here, Newt? A Greenie?_** ”

The unknown, slightly scratchy voice made Thomas tense up – even more so when he noticed that it belonged to the girl with long, tied up brown hair, who had just jogged over and approached the two boys. She was a few inches shorter than Thomas, but the boy knew that, despite her height, she was a very capable fighter, given that her brown eyes were gleaming. It intimidated him slightly; the tank top she wore showed her arm muscles off, and she seemed to be sweating profusely too, panting slightly as a mischievous smile was plastered on her face. 

“Yup. His name’s Thomas.” Newt introduced with a smile as he looked at Thomas, placing his hand on the boy’s shoulder in reassurance – Thomas couldn’t help but return the smile, “Thomas, this is Brenda. Principal Jorge’s daughter.” He added on in introduction.

Thomas blinked for a few seconds, before gaping as he stared at the girl, not knowing what to say – instead, his sentence came out as a stuttering mess. It was a shock, that was for sure - after all, she had fair skin, in comparison to Jorge. 

"I'm his adopted daughter, so there's the answer to your question." Brenda stated with a mischievous smirk.

"I didn't mean to stare, I mean---"

“Alright, alright, Shank. Take it easy.” Newt commented with a snicker, causing the Greenie’s face to flush scarlet.

“Oh!” Brenda beamed, clicking her fingers in recognition – the abrupt action caused Thomas to flinch slightly, “Also, congrats on being the one to save Alby and Minho's dumb asses! I heard about you from some of the guys at the beginning of practise!”

“Wa—Hey!” Newt snapped, frowning at the girl after looking around cautiously, “Keep it down! What’ll you do if Coach hears?!”

“Don’t worry, you uptight ass. He’s not ‘ere today,” The girl replied casually, waving her hand – Thomas gaped at how much nerve she had to answer Newt back in such a way, “He had an early morning meeting to get to or something.” She explained lazily, taking huge gulps from the water bottle she carried in hand.

“Oh…” Newt said sceptically, “Well, where are the supervisors?” He added on in question, looking around yet again.

“Supervisors?” Thomas could help but interject in question.

“You remember all the clubs we visited, and how apart from the coach, a few adults were present? They’re all supervisors, guiding students on what they’re lacking, and what the team could do better as a whole. They’re also the scouts who look for competitions we can take part in against other schools.” Newt explained, smiling.

“They left just now.” Brenda answered, “They have a life outside of us, you know. And anyway, we’re fine by ourselves. We have Minho, after all. You know, _our captain?_ ” She asked sarcastically.

“Alright, alright, point taken...” Newt replied with a breathy laugh, holding his hands up in defeat.

“So anyway, what you doin’ here, Shank?” Brenda asked curiously, tilting her head at Thomas – she was beautiful, Thomas couldn’t deny it; even if she may have not been genetically related to Principal Jorge, her personality let one know that she was indeed his daughter.

“Apparently, I’m looking for a club to join." He replied with a grin, scratching his head. Brenda raised her eyebrows as she folded her arms, momentarily eyeing Thomas from top to bottom in silence.

“Well, good luck with that,” She replied simply, “But I don’t think you’ll fit in here with us runners.” She informed flatly – Newt couldn’t help but splutter at the reply, clutching his stomach as he tried to hold his laughter in. Of course, he failed miserably, and Thomas’ face had begun to heat up.

“Minho was the one who…” Thomas paused, “Kinda told me to check every club out. So here I am. Nothing’s official yet.” He added on. Newt stopped his laughter and smiled, patting Thomas’ back.

“And there you have it. So we’re just here to spectate for now.”

“Hmm…then, you might as well be the running team’s manager alongside Newt. You seem smart enough.” Brenda replied – being taken aback by such a suggestion, Thomas thought about it for a few minutes. It did sound good; he wouldn’t have to exercise, but simply watch, give pointers, and maybe sort a few issues out regarding the club here and there, “But, well, I mean, nothing’s impossible,” She added on, “If you truly want to join the team and get a spot on the first string, which consists of the runners who take part in competitions, I suggest you work on your muscles first.” She finished off, taking another gulp from her water bottle.

“Thanks for the advice.” Thomas replied slowly, “But I don’t think so. I need a bit more time to think that over.” He said as he looked over at Newt for confirmation, who was nodding in reply.

“Well, there’s no rush.” The blond reassured warmly, before looking around for a final time, “Anyway, Tommy, I need to help out some of these Slintheads regarding their running form, and exercising their bodies correctly,” He informed, “So we’ll head back to the dorms at seven, okay? That’s the time morning practise ends, anyway. It’s only twenty minutes, so you should be fine; walk around, get to know some of the Gladers.” He instructed, causing Thomas to simply nod in reply – the Greenie was now used to it.

“And some of the girls of Glade B - you know, if you’re into that.” Brenda commented with a smirk as she raised both of her eyebrows, causing Thomas’ face to flush.

“Of course I’m into that!” He replied frantically, both Newt and Brenda wasting no time in laughing at him, walking off together to help out some of the extremely tired-looking freshmen, who were undoubtedly struggling.

As Thomas stood there awkwardly grumbling to himself for a while, face still flushed, he promptly began to look around the entire track, wondering where to begin. He thought about how he’d get some more sleep after heading back to the dorms with Newt, considering the fact that breakfast began at 7:30am. His stomach began churning at the fact that lessons would start at 8:00am, too. That reminded him, Principal Jorge had mentioned that he’d receive his timetable at breakfast.

The boy’s thoughts were then interrupted as he felt his phone persistently vibrate in his pocket. Rapidly pulling it out, Thomas wasted no time in fumbling with the device, about to drop it yet again. After composing himself, Thomas sighed out in relief, and read the reply his childhood friend had sent.

‘TOM’

‘I’VE MISSED YOU SO MUCH’

‘YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW WORRIED I WAS.’

‘After I saw you hadn't come back from Paige's office, I looked everywhere for you!'

'Your dorm mates had no clue where you were, and I saw that all of the stuff in your room was gone!'

'I was too scared to call, or text, so I asked Janson where you were!’

'He told me not to worry...Then, on Monday...we were all seated for an assembly...'

'Spilker and Paige said that they 'regretted to inform' us of your suspension...'

'They revealed to us that you attacked Spilker, so...so they ultimately decided to expel you'

'I was so confused. I didn't know what to believe.'

'Janson told us all to keep your altercation with Spilker on the down low, unless we wanted to be expelled, too.'

'Paige said you were one of the best students, and that we should learn from your mistakes. Apparently your actions reflected on the academy's name badly...'

'I felt sick...I was scared. That's why I didn't call, or text...I'm sorry. I'm so sorry..'

'I'll stay away from Ava Paige, and I'll find somewhere for us to skype. Make sure you get your hands on a laptop over there ASAP too...'

As he inspected the text with a smile, about to reply, Thomas looked up from his phone momentarily before noticing Minho, quickly putting it away – while staring, the boy noticed that Minho’s form was absolutely immaculate as he jogged over in his direction. He was also stabilising his breath sharply, and the older guy’s arms were continuously moving back and forth at a certain angle, his muscles yet again showing themselves off. As his pale blue button up shirt’s sleeves were rolled right up to his elbows, Minho’s legs moved in both articulation and grace, dispelling any chance of a leg injury taking place.

Thomas shifted as he grabbed the strap of his shoulder bag, eyes fixed on Minho who came within speaking range.

“Hey, why’d you intimidate Gally into waking me up?” Thomas managed to ask, clearly unamused.

“Huh, really? I did?” Minho replied, voice as husky as ever as he let out quiet, sharp huffs, and amusement was dripping from his tone. Closely jogging past Thomas, he turned his head to keep his eyes glued on the Greenie for as long as possible, eyeing him up and down for a split second before continuing his course – Thomas felt his eye twitch at the gesture, and he instantly turned his body around to look at Minho yet again, whose back was facing him as he jogged off into the distance.

“He was pissed beyond belief!” Thomas involuntarily called out, “He also scared me half to death!”

“Slim it!” Minho called back out in reply as he waved the boy over casually, not bothering to turn around, still jogging. Thomas cocked an eyebrow at the guy’s gesture for a few seconds before shaking his head.

The Greenie then began running in an attempt to catch up with Minho, who was already quite a distance away – he was only jogging, but he was still fast nonetheless. Thomas could already feel he was out of breath after achieving the speed to jog by his side. Now maintaining the speed would be a problem, unless Minho slowed down for him.

“You still alive there, Shank?” The older boy asked with a smirk, looking over at Thomas as sweat drops were visible on his face, hair slicked up. Now that Thomas thought about it, the guy always looked like he had applied something to his hair, since it was never flat.

“B-barely,” Thomas breathed out, “Seriously, I don’t know how you all do this shit first thing in the morning,” He added on in genuine disbelief.

“Well, what can I say? My training is both rough and tough,” Minho teased, huffing out a laugh, “But I’m impressed; not a lot of Shanks can keep up with my jogging.” He informed casually.

“I can tell – your form is unlike anything I’ve ever seen.” Thomas said, “It’s like an Olympic athlete's, or something..” He added on, face flushing – the boy then turned his body to look behind him, in an attempt to avoid eye contact with Minho, who blinked as though the Greenie was merely stating the obvious.

“And your form is unlike anything I’ve ever seen,” The older boy replied, “You’re doin’ it all wrong, Greenie.” He said, putting a stop to his jogging as he stood still, catching his breath in composure. Thomas quickly followed suite, crouching down and breathing heavily, proceeding to look around as he wiped his mouth with his forearm.

“H-Huh? What d’you mean?”

“I’m talkin’ about those slender, thrust-friendly hips of yours,” Minho replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes as he pointed down at the boy.

Thomas instantly sent Minho a quizzical look – upon processing the comment fully, Thomas’ face flushed a deep shade of scarlet as he stood up straight.

“W-what the fuck---“

“Like I said, _your hips_ ,” Minho interrupted impatiently, “You need to have them facing forward the entire time, since they’re the centre of your gravity,” He informed, taking a step closer towards Thomas, who was about to back away, “And your arms? They have to be bent at a precise ninety degree angle,” He added on, taking the Greenie’s left arm and gently bending the forearm upwards, “Otherwise you won’t be able to achieve the speed to propel forward.”

“Oh…Oh! Right!” Thomas said, nodding his head as he did the same to his right arm, Minho fixing the positioning of the two arms in a running posture, “But I spoke to Principal Jorge’s daughter just now…Brenda, I think?” He asked, to which Minho gave a nod, “And she said it’d be better for me to work on my muscles first.” He added on, looking down at the floor.

“Yeah, she isn’t wrong, since she’s fast, smart, and hot as fuck,” Minho confirmed, “But there’s no harm in fixing up your form. You know, since you’re part of the first string Runners now.”

Thomas was just about to grin at the boy, before he widened his eyes, raising his head to look at Minho, who was smirking, hands on his hips.

“Wait… ** _What?_** ” 

* * *

“I can’t believe it. That Shank? A **_runner?!_** Don’t make me laugh, Minho! You should know better than anyone how unfit the scrawny little Greenie is!”

“Hey, Gally, I didn’t…”

“You mind taking a step outside, Greenie? I’m talkin’ to Minho!”

“ ** _He stays!_** ”

A silence hung over the Glade A dorm cafeteria.

“… _Fine._ ”

“Gally—“

“Nah, Fry, I’m out!”

The door to the cafeteria slammed shut as Gally stormed out of Glade A, making his way to lessons, early by twenty minutes. As Frypan proceeded to chase after him, sending a sharp look towards Minho, the staff had already left the dorms, since the Gladers were now more than capable of feeding themselves after being provided with the food – There was also a massive fridge in the dorm kitchen, where the Gladers could place their own respective food, and cook for themselves whenever they wanted to. Plus, there were sinks where they could wash up any of their dirty dishes, as well as a laundry room for them to wash their clothes.

The chattering resounded throughout the hall as the boys all spoke of Thomas’ new position in the first string of the running team while eating, as well as the argument which just took place between Gally and Minho, Thomas himself stood by Minho’s side the entire time.

Truthfully, it came as just as much of a shock to Thomas than it came to them. After Minho had told him such a thing, the Greenie kept it to himself, causing Newt to question his odd behaviour as the three walked back to the dorms – even Chuck, who woke up when the three had entered AB57, urging him to get up since breakfast was in half an hour, managed to catch on that Thomas was acting weird. Minho had gone off to shower, so Thomas hadn't seen him again until he had entered the dorm cafeteria - he couldn't properly look him in the eyes the entire time.

When the bell signifying the start of breakfast had rung, it was like watching a stampede of rhinos; Thomas was pretty sure he was going to get swept away by all of the Gladers who were struggling to make it downstairs. However, after a few minutes, he found himself in the dorm cafeteria as Newt and Chuck sat at one of the four, long tables, which managed to seat all of the Gladers.

About to take a seat between the two, Minho’s sudden appearance made Thomas feel on edge – then, making matters worse, Minho announced to the Gladers that Thomas now had a spot on the first string of the running team, and that he was expected to show up to practises from now on. Thomas’ expression instantly turned into that of surprise at the fact that most of the boys yelled out cheers – looking over to Chuck and Newt, Thomas saw that Newt seemed to be indifferent regarding the news as he drank a mug of tea and ate some toast, while Chuck was eating his cereal, absolutely thrilled for Thomas – in Newt’s case, it made Thomas wonder if the blond didn’t care, was jealous, or if he knew it would happen sooner or later.

However, the announcement instantly resulted in Gally standing up and making his way over to them, yelling and accusingly pointing at Thomas – the Greenie flinched in shock and could only ask defensively what he had done wrong – it’s not like he had begged Minho to join the team or anything.

After Gally had slammed the door, Thomas was now looking down at the floor with a frown, not knowing what to do with himself, and what to say. As Minho had his hands on his hips, muttering profanities towards Gally under his breath, Thomas couldn’t help but think it all seemed like a cruel practical joke, him being on the first string of the running team.

“If you want to know what that was all about, Gally’s been trying to get a spot on the running team since freshman year…but I’ve shot the little Shuckface down every time...he’s just looking for someone to blame regarding his shitty ability, so don’t sweat it,” Minho reassured, placing a hand on Thomas’ shoulder, snapping the Greenie out of his thoughts.

“Thanks, Minho…” Thomas replied quietly, “But I don’t really blame him - I’d be pretty pissed too, if some Greenie got a position on the team I idolised before me."

Thomas paused, before sighing out.

"Look, I know you said I’m officially on the team, but I don't want that. I don't deserve first string, or the team.” He added on.

Minho paused in what seemed like subtle surprise for a few moments, before rolling his eyes at the reply, removing his hand.

“Whatever, Shank,” The older boy stated, “I _was_ going to make you Keeper of The Runners, but now that I think about it, the team would probably kill you and snap your bony ass in half if I did so.”

Minho’s reply made Thomas stare in shock – _him? Keeper of The Runners?_ Minho was going to give him such a position? _The guy had only just met Thomas **yesterday** – giving him a position on the first string, wanting to make him the Keeper; just what was he **thinking**?_

As he was lost in shock, Thomas noticed that Minho went to sit on a different table from Newt and Chuck, and instead with his fellow runners – now, ambiguously,  Thomas’ new teammates, kind of.

After the older guy had sat down, the runners all stared from Minho towards Thomas with a grin, who was still awkwardly stood by the door of the dorm cafeteria, holding his hands, knitting his eyebrows together.

Just then, the doors flung open to reveal Principal Jorge stood there with a grin, and all conversations came to an abrupt stop.

The Gladers stared at the man in silence, and Thomas blinked in curiosity to see someone else stood by Jorge's side.

A huge middle-aged guy with wrinkled skin, muscle, and long, shaggy blond hair - his suit was worn sloppily, and his beard gave one the urge to grab a pair of scissors and cut it all off. He seemed to have a permanent scowl on his face, too.

“ _Buenos dias, chicos!_ ” Jorge greeted enthusiastically.

After noticing Thomas, he sent a warm smile in his direction, to which the boy returned. The blond man then proceeded to pace up and down the hall, hands behind his back, whilst Jorge grinned in amusement.

With his hands in his pockets, Jorge held a laptop case and piece of paper under his arm.

“Received some very interesting information from the Grievers, as you boys would call them, yesterday evening,” The blond man began in a booming voice – _Thomas could feel the rhythm of his heart mess up a bit_ , “They said a rock was thrown from the outside and through a first floor window by trespassers."

"We hope you boys are all alright." Jorge added on, "We've just inspected it, so expect a replacement for it tomorrow, as well as stricter security from now on.”

The Gladers all chanted a ‘thank you, Sirs’ in unison, causing Thomas to look over at Minho – the guy was drinking from his cup, as composed as ever, and not bothering to join in with the chant of thanks. 

“Also, as you boys may know, Alby was suffering from a minor concussion, and a nurse had to come and take him for overnight observation. He’s fine for now, so you should all rest assured.” Jorge continued, to which Newt let out a subtle sigh of relief, “Lessons begin in fifteen minutes, so finish off your meals – or start them,” He said, sending a look of amusement towards Thomas’ direction, “And head to lessons on time, _si?_ ” He asked, to which the Gladers all nodded, “Good! Now, you may continue!” He beamed, gesturing for his blond companion to join him once again.

The Gladers then began their conversations yet again, fully ignoring the authoritative presences - as Jorge and the blond man approached Thomas, the smile hadn’t left Jorge's face. The blond guy was inspecting Thomas up and down, which made the Greenie slightly nervous.

“Why aren’t you eating, Thomas _?_ ” The blond man asked curiously.

“I was just about to, Sir.” Thomas replied with a nervous smile.

"I don't do formalities, son. It's Vince. Call me Vince." The blond man stated, releasing his tense frown, and smiling at the boy.

“He's the vice principal.” Jorge stated, to which Thomas gave a sheepish nod. No wonder he looked familiar - the website featured his photo, too. If Thomas was being honest, he didn't take the time to read about the teachers at this school, apart from  Jorge.

Jorge then held out the piece of paper which was under his arm, in front of Thomas.

“This is your timetable. Make sure you don’t lose it, Hermano.” He informed; Thomas blinked in realisation and nodded repeatedly, taking it from the man.

“I won’t, Sir. Thank you.” He assured, folding the sheet and placing it in his shoulder bag. Readjusting the strap of his bag, Thomas looked between the two with a smile.

“Good that,” Jorge replied, “Minho and Newt are in most of your classes, so just follow them around, and you’ll eventually get the hang of it,” He instructed, now proceeding to hold the laptop case out for Thomas.

The Greenie simply nodded in reply, proceeding to blink in confusion at the man’s gesture – after a moment of thinking, Thomas looked at him in disbelief.

“But this is---“

“ _All yours, Hermano!_ ” Jorge interrupted, tone far too happy.

“But Sir, I was going to search for a job after school to fund for one….” Thomas replied slowly, staring at the laptop case.

“Bah! No, Hermano, no. All yours. It consists of a charger and everything, so don’t worry.” Jorge reassured, patting the boy’s back, now practically shoving the case into Thomas’ hands.

“Seriously, Sir, I can’t accept thi----“

“Look kid, if he says it’s okay, then it’s okay,” Vince interrupted, before blinking in shock at the sound of his phone vibrating, "Oh, 'scuse me, gentlemen, but I need to take this." He stated, to which Jorge and Thomas nodded, "Nice to meet you, Thomas."

"You too, Sir."

"Vince." He reminded.

"Vince." Thomas restated.

And with that, the blond vice principal disappeared from sight.

"Anyway, it was the same case for you in WICKED, si? Having a laptop?” Jorge asked quietly behind his hand.

“W-Well yes, but they reclaimed it as their property after my expulsion…even though I had purchased it through the scholarship...” Thomas muttered in reply, dreading the memory.

“Well, this is no different. Except that it’s your property, no matter what.”

Thomas honestly didn’t know what to say as he held the laptop case; it was relatively heavy, but not uncomfortably so.

“And anyway, Hermano - what’s this about a job? The scholarship is a gift from the school to you!” Jorge asked curiously, tilting his head. Thomas bit his lip, ears going red in embarrassment.

“Well---I--…I just wanted to earn my own money…and send some to my mom...” The boy stuttered out quietly, “We aren’t rich like the students here…we can’t afford the dorms, or anything...” He muttered, looking around anxiously to see if any of the Gladers were listening in on the conversation.

Thomas then jolted upon seeing that Minho was staring at him in boredom for a few seconds, their eyes meeting – as their eyes were locked together, Minho was the first one to break the eye contact, turning his head to the side to talk to his friends. Thomas’ face instantly flushed in confusion as he swiftly turned his head to look away from Minho.

_‘What the hell was that?’_

Jorge inspected the boy for a few moments, frowning; Thomas was now looking down at the floor, clearly uncomfortable.

“Listen to me, Thomas,” Jorge said firmly, placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder, “I have a lot of faith in you. You, Hermano, have the ability to change this school. I can’t explain it, but there’s a sense of…” He trailed off for a moment, eyeing Thomas up and down, “ _Potential in you, I guess you could say._ ”

“W—I’m not really anything that great, Sir…” The boy replied, looking up at the man in surprise.

“Ah, but that is where you are mistaken, Hermano!” Jorge beamed, “You are capable of more than you think!" He added on, "Your records also tell me that you are an extremely intelligent boy. Well, of course you are, considering WICK---" The man then cut himself off with a cough, " _But anyway,_ that is why I don’t want you to worry about the money, or finding a job - your scholarship will enable you to receive a weekly allowance for whatever you wish to spend it on, and it will be delivered to your dorm post box every Tuesday, so make sure you save and spend wisely!” The man informed, "Your mother is undoubtedly doing her best, too, and she merely wants the best education you can possibly get, which we will definitely give you. For now you should enjoy all of this. The laptop is something that’s obligatory, si? For communicating, schoolwork, entertainment, and such?”

Thomas nodded, completely in awe.

“Then it’s all yours!” Jorge announced, "Plus, it’s safer and less complicated to just accept the scholarship money, in comparison to finding a job, since the curfew won’t get you many hours.” Jorge informed with a grin.

“…Thank you...” Was all Thomas could manage to say.

"Hermano, Hermano, there's absolutely nothing to thank!" The man reassured before looking down at his wristwatch, “That time already?” He muttered to himself - he then looked at Thomas with a smile, “I need to get to a meeting, and you should be starting your breakfast. So I won’t take any more of your time up.”

Thomas shook his head rapidly, smiling as he pressed the laptop case against his chest.

“You weren’t, Sir. But I understand. Thank you again.”

“Any friend of Brenda’s is a friend of mine.”

“W--? She said that?” Thomas asked in surprise, causing Jorge to send him a quizzical look.

“You’re not?” The man enquired – Thomas instantly shook his head.

“ _No, no, we are, we are!_ ”

* * *

“Still not sure about you havin’ the spot on the team, Tommy…” Newt commented, staring down at his feet with a serious facial expression. The sudden comment made Thomas look up from his timetable and at the blond, blinking in surprise, forgetting his first day of school nerves for a split second.

As the two boys walked to their first lesson side by side, they had said their goodbyes to Chuck beforehand, who waved at the two enthusiastically, even giving Thomas a small hug, which made the Greenie’s face flush in embarrassment – seriously like an annoying brother, Thomas thought. The boy also went back to AB57 to put his new laptop on the bed, and couldn't wait to start it up. He could call Teresa tonight, and such a thought soothed him.

“Truthfully, neither am I.” Thomas replied, smiling at Newt as he ran a hand through his hair, “Honestly, what is Minho thinking?I’m just really tired...” He added on with a laugh.

“..Tommy, look,” Newt began, pressing a hand against the boy’s chest to stop him from walking – Thomas blinked, looking down at Newt’s hand, then back up at the blond, “If you do join the team, I don’t want you to end up how I did; overworking myself, not knowing my limits. I don’t think I can stand to see someone who’s not me like that. So please, just promise me you won’t jump into things without thinking, like you did when you saw Minho and Alby were in danger. Those two may seem like they overwork themselves and don't know their limits, but believe me, they do... _more than anyone_...”

Thomas instantly looked at Newt in pure worry – it was clear that the blond cared. The seriousness in tone, his facial expression; it made Thomas’ heart ache, and want to help him forget the past. _After all, he really liked Newt. He wanted to help him make it all okay again._

“I promise, Newt.” Was all Thomas replied with, a reassuring smile on his face.

 _'The first step to making it all okay again...'_ He thought to himself.

“Good that, ya’ bloody Shank,” Newt replied, returning the smile as he cocked an eyebrow, nodding his head and playfully punching Thomas in the shoulder, the two continuing to make their way.

“Ugh, still. I can’t believe we have math first thing. On a Monday, not to mention,” Thomas groaned, causing Newt to laugh.

“Minho’s pretty good at it, you know,” Newt informed, “Just ask him for help if you get stuck!” He advised brightly.

“I’d rather ask you,” Thomas muttered, “Something tells me the dude gets easily irritated by guys like me.”

“Pft--- _‘guys like you’_? Care to elaborate on what you mean by that?” Newt asked.

“Just---…” Thomas cut himself off, “Well, I dunno…like, _slow_ people.” He stated with a shrug - Newt merely looked at him blankly, arms folded.

“ _Seriously?_ I expected a better running joke..” The boy sighed out in disappointment.

“I wasn’t trying to make a joke!” Thomas replied, “I’m seriously slow at math!” He informed.

“Well, whatever, I understand.”

* * *

Thomas’ heart was beating like a jackhammer as he was stood at the front of the classroom, nervously avoiding eye contact with the students who were intently staring at him with a smile. He took it back; he was more nervous about the students than the teachers. It was big classroom – there must have been over 35 students altogether. Newt was sat in the front row, eyes fixated on Thomas as Minho sat by him.

“You can do it, Tommy,” The blond whispered, gesturing a thumbs up. Thomas looked up to see Newt nodding in reassurance at him with a smile. Minho seemed to be dozing off in his chair as his arms were folded, and his head kept on bobbing up and down – he looked really peaceful and composed. Kind of like Thomas when he attended WICKED.

“ _Thomas, why don’t you introduce yourself to the class...?_ ” The feminine voice suggested, sounding rather cautious and taken aback at the boy's lack of words.

“ _What?!_ ” Thomas asked frantically, quickly turning his head to look over at the woman who had introduced herself as Ms Denton, his new math teacher - with her dark skin, as well as dark hair, Thomas found himself absolutely mesmerised by her appearance - she was beautiful. 

But the most beautiful thing about her were her kind eyes.

“Oh—! Uh, right, yeah..” Thomas suddenly blinked in surprise, letting out a meek stutter as he had snapped out of his thoughts - the students had broken out into laughter, and Thomas could already feel his face heating up, reaching all the way to his ears.

Ms Denton merely sent the students a cocked eyebrow, before looking at Thomas with a supportive smile.

"Go on, Thomas," She urged softly. 

A few moments had passed as Thomas contemplated on what to do, until he gave a small nod.

“Well…my name’s Thomas…” He began slowly.

“ _We gathered that, Greenie!_ ” One of the Gladers called out enthusiastically – a few of the girls giggled at the comment, proceeding to whisper to one another while keeping their eyes on Thomas. Ms Denton merely snapped a small _'shh!_ ' in their direction.

The Greenie instantly grabbed the strap of his bag at the gesture, licking and biting his lips lightly.

“Yeah, uh…” Thomas trailed off, not knowing where to look, “There’s…not really that much to say? I’m in room AB57 if you ever want me for any reason…so…uh...yeah,” He said slowly, “Oh, and I’m sixteen years old!” He finished off with a smile.

_He wasn’t going to lie - it could have gone a lot worse._

A few whispers broke out as the students conversed with one another, and Thomas couldn’t help but nervously laugh – the kids were weird at Maze Runner, no doubt about it.

“…Well, thank you, Thomas,” Ms Denton replied, sending him a small, friendly smile, which practically screamed 'you tried' to the Greenie, "Uh, let’s see…” She muttered, looking around – after a few seconds, the woman pointed at the free desk behind Newt, “That can be your seat from now on, so please make your way.” She instructed, to which Thomas gave a quick nod.

Something told Thomas that Ms Denton would be one of the few teachers that he would like.

After awkwardly slipping through the first row and past Minho, the Greenie saw the smirk on the older boy’s ‘sleeping’ face. He instantly took his shoulder bag off, placing it by his desk and taking a seat – as Thomas proceeded to lower his body to get his stationery out in a hurry, when he raised himself back up, he was greeted by Minho’s smirking face, which took him by surprise.

“That was hands down the most awkward introduction I’ve ever witnessed in my entire shuck life,” The older guy brought up, sat backwards on his chair to face the boy.

After being told such a thing, Thomas’ face flushed a bright shade of red as he placed his hands in his lap, looking down at them.

“Minho, stop bullying the Greenie,” Newt said with a smirk as he turned his head around, elbow resting on the top of the backrest of his chair.

“Oh yeah, that reminds me,” Minho began, “You should probably get your Shanky, girly face checked out. In the time we’ve spent together, I've noticed it sometimes goes red.” He informed, pointing at Thomas. Newt nudged the boy with a slight frown, “Ow! What!? I’m only tellin’ the truth!”

The Greenie instantly began touching his cheeks, clearly shocked.

“Holy shit, _seriously!?_ ”

“Minho, turn around.” Ms Denton instructed sternly, tone far different in comparison to the way she spoke to Thomas only moments ago.

However, Thomas saw that Minho was unfazed by the instruction - in fact, he was smirking as he obliged, turning back around in his chair, leaving Thomas alone with his thoughts.


	4. Anchor Runner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧Hey there, dear readers! Just wanted to say thank you all so much for your wonderful support through kudos and comments! I really appreciate it, and it makes me really motivated to write the chapters up! d ^//^;;b  
> At any rate, please enjoy the newest chapter, dear reader!~:･ﾟ✧

By the time the first two lessons of the day were over, Thomas was sat on a bench in the school courtyard, dreading his entire existence, and the concept of high school itself.  
  
As he looked around, Thomas processed his surroundings; the courtyard was big, that was for sure. The greenery scattered around told one that many of the woodland creatures belonged here, currently in hibernation at around this time of year - the students were all as lively as ever as some were sat down on the grass, conversing with one another, whilst others were sat on the benches. A few of the Gladers were playing football, and some of the girls were busy texting on their phones.   
  
Currently break, Thomas didn’t know where to go, or how to find Newt – the blond had a different class to him after Math – Science, to be specific, whilst Thomas had English Literature.  
  
Despite befriending many people, Thomas could feel not a single one of the kids in the courtyard were acknowledging him. With his legs subconsciously bouncing up and down, the boy could only stare down at them in discomfort while fiddling with his fingers. At this point, he wouldn't mind at all if Chuck randomly appeared, keeping him company and rambling on about pointless things - in fact, he greatly welcomed it. He still needed someone to guide him to his locker, too.  
  
Looking back on the first lesson, Thomas thought that Math went relatively well – he attempted to listen to Ms Denton as best as he could (it was his first day in a new school, after all, and he wanted to stay on her good side), and the two girls sat next to him on both his left and right helped him out with all of the formulas and equations he couldn’t quite grasp the concept of.

They introduced themselves as Harriet and Sonya - Sonya was usually referred to as Lizzy or Elizabeth by Newt for some strange reason, causing the girl to frown at him in irritation.

Thomas learned from Newt that Sonya didn't like her real name in particular, which struck the boy as somewhat odd - but he could understand, due to Teresa being the same. What was even more shocking to the Greenie, however, was learning that Newt and Sonya were siblings.

_Brother and sister._

Thomas finally realised how similar they looked - their simultaneously curved noses, their swept-to-the-side, soft, golden hair (Sonya's was braided to the side), and their brown eyes.

Of course, when he was told such a thing, the boy couldn't help but splutter and stutter, looking between the two with wide eyes, jaw hanging open as he pointed at them both in utter awe - Minho simply smirked, and Newt couldn't help but snigger.

Sonya merely rolled her eyes at her elder brother and his mischief.

After asking the tall blond why he hadn't told him such a thing sooner, Thomas squinted his eyes after Newt told him that he had never asked.

It turned out Sonya was two years younger than Newt, meaning that she, along with Harriet, were both 14-year-old freshmen, with amazing intelligence - hence the reason why they had certain classes with the Juniors, instead of with the rest of the freshmen. The Greenie couldn't believe the two had practically skipped two grades.

Once he had managed to get over the shock, Thomas found that Harriet and Sonya were really nice - they were extremely unique people; kind of like Brenda, with a fiery spark, but not as extreme as her. 

The students didn’t seem to be all that interested in the lesson in general – if Thomas was being honest, as interesting a person Ms Denton seemed, she dragged everything she was teaching on, making it feel like an eternity to him as he continued to write notes.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t have to hold back multiple yawns.

Harriet and Sonya could only laugh at the Greenie's 'cute' mannerisms, which Thomas couldn't help but flush at the mention of - especially having it come from two _freshmen._  
  
As Thomas continued to chat with the two girls, Minho was constantly turning around to tease him regarding his flushing face, which resulted in Newt turning around, frantically changing the topic of conversation in an attempt to stop any arguments from occurring – Harriet and Sonya also made sassy comments, trying to get back at Minho, but the guy didn’t seem to be fazed in the slightest - in fact, it only made him smirk at Thomas even more. Attempts at trying to repress experiencing the emotion of embarrassment proved to be a futile effort for Thomas, as he could feel his face was only heating up more and more because of the Keeper.  
  
After waving goodbye to Newt, Sonya, as well as Harriet, the bell, signifying the end of the first lesson, and start of the second, resounded throughout the school - Thomas checked his timetable to see that he had English Literature – it turned out that Minho had the same, so the Greenie attempted to follow the guy as discreetly as possible, until a few runners boisterously slapped him on the back in recognition, making him walk with them to the lesson.  
  
The runners all introduced themselves to him as they made their way, some of the Glade A boys refreshing his memory, due to their introductions from yesterday. Thomas’ face also couldn't help but flush at the sight of Minho speaking to a relatively tall guy with blond hair, now ignoring the Greenie's presence (which irked Thomas to no end, considering how much Minho was teasing him the lesson before). The boy recognized the tall blond as Ben, the runner which Chuck pointed out in admiration yesterday – he was told the guy had a rather mischievous personality, and he had a knack for teasing others. Especially Chuck. Needless to say, Thomas didn’t like that. But then again, such a description fitted Minho perfectly, so his choice in friends wasn’t a surprise.  
  
After reaching the lesson, Thomas was forced forced to, yet again, introduce himself to the class - the English Literature teacher, who had introduced herself as Katie McVoy, was a relatively short woman, with dark hair, as well as pale skin (paler than Newt's, anyway) - she was a very articulate woman in Thomas' opinion, as he had expected of an English teacher, but at the same time, she was kind of bossy. 

Of course, it was a given that he would have to refer to her as 'Ms McVoy' - Thomas didn't need her to tell him, or have it spelt out by anybody.

After noticing that Brenda sat in the middle row of the class, and by the window, Thomas was kind of hoping to occupy the free seat on her right.

She was eyeing him in amusement as Thomas was introducing himself, which put him on slight edge, but not so much after looking back on it. 

Of course, Thomas was relatively happy to be seated by Brenda - they spoke throughout most of the lesson, getting to know each other. She was a lot more humorous than he thought. Minho was sat at the back with his friends and a couple of girls from Glade B, but Thomas was too busy listening to Ms McVoy as he did his work, as well as talking to Brenda to even care.   
  
When the bell had rung, Brenda informed the boy that Jorge wanted to see her as she waved goodbye, so Thomas didn’t dare to tag along with her – looking around after the girl had left, Thomas noticed that Minho had disappeared - not that he would approach the taller guy, but the realisation had hit that he was now, officially, generically, lost.   
  
Randomly walking around until he came across the courtyard, taking a seat on the bench, and hoping that Newt or Chuck would find him, was rather a stupid move in Thomas’ opinion – he stood out way too much. He was the only kid who wasn’t part of a group.   
  
The Greenie thought about going back to the dorm to spend his break there, or going over to his next class early, maybe even small talk with the teacher – and who knows, the teacher could end up being his favourite. But there was just far too much walking involved.   
  
_The reminder had then hit him like a ton of bricks._

He was a runner now, kind of, and after school club practise was something that he would have to attend, too.   
  
_‘The after school practise ends at five...An hour and thirty minutes of free time left until the curfew...so exploring the city is basically impossible. I’ll be tired beyond belief, given my stamina, and I would need to take a shower, anyway…’_ Thomas thought to himself in dejection, sighing out yet again.  
  
"Like I thought, I can't do it."   
  
" _Can't do what, Thomas?_ "  
  
Thomas instantly whipped his head up to look at the direction the voice came from - _it was Alby._    
  
The student government president seemed to be doing much better in comparison to yesterday, and was as conscious as ever, stood there with his arms folded. There seemed to be a slight swelling on his head, but it wasn't noticeable unless one payed extreme attention. As he wore a scowl on his face, Thomas knew it wasn’t intentional; Alby was probably the type to internalise stress, and so all of the tension went to his facial expression. Thomas couldn’t blame him – being head of Glade A, a senior with endless tests, as well as student government president? Just the thought of it made Thomas mentally exhausted.  
  
Thomas then instantly heaved himself up and off of the bench, readjusting the strap of his shoulder bag, and had begun patting himself down.  
  
“I didn’t even think you knew my name yet…“  
  
“..’Course I do, Greenie. As the student government president, I’m obligated to know every Glader's name – new student or not,” Alby replied, “Also, I’m Alby - but you probably already knew that,” The boy introduced, walking up to Thomas as he held his hand out for the Greenie to shake.   
  
Thomas nervously laughed in reply, raising his head as he took the senior’s hand cautiously, noticing that the guy had a strong grip – just by looking at him, Thomas knew that Alby was more than capable of securing a position on the first string of the running team. In a split second, even. Himself, on the other hand…  
  
“Anyway, I just wanted to thank you, Thomas,” The Senior added on humbly, head bowed down slightly; Thomas was instantly taken aback at such a gesture as he blinked curiously, letting go of the guy’s hand.  
  
“Wait, what?”   
  
“When I woke up yesterday with a bangin’ headache, totally clueless as to why Newt was sat by my bedside, he told me what you did for both me and Minho,” Alby replied, “And the fact that I couldn’t control how much alcohol I consumed is fuckin’ embarrassing. Rumours are already spreadin’ like wildfire. Also, you really are one crazy ass Greenie…so I just wanted to say I owe ya,” He informed, patting Thomas’ arm with a smile.  
  
“I just did what I thought would be the right thing,” Thomas stated, looking at the boy with a smile, “But you’re welcome…” He added on.  
  
“Good that,” Alby replied, nodding his head - as his hands were on his hips, the boy sent Thomas a curious look, head tilted, “So anyways, what was it you were sayin’ before?”  
  
“Huh?”   
  
“Somethin’ about _‘not being able to do it’_?” Alby enquired, arms now folded yet again - the guy had pretty well-defined forearms - maybe he was part of another athletic group.  
  
“Oh...” Thomas nodded, tearing his eyes away from the boy's muscles, “It’s just that after helping you and Minho out, Minho’s instantly given me a position on the first string on the running team.” He explained, “The guy even said he was going to make me the Keeper of The Runners, but decided against it, or something.”  
  
Alby’s blank scowl put Thomas on edge - as the boy readjusted the strap of his bag yet again, he had realised that maybe bringing up Minho’s scrapped decision probably wasn’t the best of ideas.  
  
“Oh, yeah, I heard something about that from Brenda,” Alby replied, holding his chin in thought as he stared down at the floor, “Still, that guy sure is one crazy Slinthead…” He added on with a mutter, “Seems to me like Minho’s taken quite the liking to you, Greenie,” The Senior informed in conclusion, raising his head to look at Thomas.  
  
Thomas could only blink in confusion, biting down on his lip.  
  
“…See, but that’s the thing,” He replied, holding his hands out in emphasis, “I feel like being on the first string isn’t something I deserve. Especially when I haven't worked for it like the other runners. Running isn't particularly for me, either. I just want to study for a bit, get on track, explore the city…but now I have to attend practise every day..."  
  
After a while of silence, Thomas instantly felt his face heat up at the sight of Alby’s facial expression going from a scowl to amusement – the older boy had begun to shake as he covered his mouth in a desperate attempt to hold his laughter in.  
  
“Pff--I see..” Alby managed to say, turning his face away from Thomas.  
  
“W—what’s so funny?” The boy asked cautiously, grabbing the strap of his bag.  
  
“Oh, no, really, it’s nothing, just---“ Alby’s sentence was then interrupted as barks of laughter had begun to spill out of his mouth; the boy had a tight grip on his stomach, and Thomas could only stare helplessly at the Senior, whom people were looking at in confusion as they passed by.  
  
“Seriously, Alby, you’re kinda pullin’ my leg here,” Thomas insisted.                   
  
“Shit, sorry, Greenie, sorry!” Alby replied, waving his hand, “But you do realise that it’s not obligatory, right? To attend practise every day, I mean,” He added on.  
  
“Wh---...really?”  
  
“Yeah,” Alby replied, “But you have to attend it at least once a week. Not on Saturdays, though, given that it's a day off.” He informed, about to let out an influx of laughter yet again, “Shit, Greenie, you’re like a Freshman!”  
  
“You're serious?!” Thomas asked, ignoring Alby’s comment, “But Minho said that I was expected to show up to the practises from now on…meaning I’d have to attend them all, right?“ ~~~~  
  
“Yeah, well, expect Minho to suck you off if you did attend every single one,” Alby informed with a snicker, pointing at the boy.   
  
Thomas’ face instantly flushed as he squinted his eyes, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish as he tried to construct a sentence as best as he could – the image of Minho doing such a thing to him was instantly sealed off.  
  
“Most of the runners practise three days a week, with the exception of Brenda and Minho, who practise the entire six days a week,” Alby informed, “Even seen Minho slippin' his personal practise in on Saturdays,” He added on with a raise of his eyebrows, and Thomas parted his lips at the information in surprise – of course, even on a day off, Minho just couldn’t help himself, “Those two are the best out of all the runners, so everyone refers to them as _the Glade Runners_. I used to be referred as one, too.” Alby added on, a prideful smirk on his face.  
  
“So, you used to be on the team…I thought so,” Thomas muttered after blinking up at the taller boy.  
  
“Yeah, but after I became the student government president last year, student council duties beckoned. I still hang around from time to time, though.” Alby replied with a grin. It did explain why the guy and Minho were on such good terms, Thomas couldn’t help but think, “But anyway, there’re a shit ton of members, so the practises are always full. The Sunday practises are even more tiring than usual, though, so not a lot of the runners do it…” The Senior added on.  
  
“S-So..uh…that is to say…” Thomas had begun stuttering, causing Alby to shake his head at him with a smile.  
  
“But what I do know for a fact is that Minho thinks you have what it takes," Alby said, "And I do, too." He added on, eyes locked with Thomas', "It’s just a matter of whether or not you truly wanna do it. You’re not like the others, Thomas. _You’re curious._ ”  
  
Thomas blinked before exhaling silently, taking what Alby was saying into account – Thomas didn’t necessarily hate athletic sports, but he didn’t really like it, either. Plus, physical education was a total bore back at WICKED, so exercising was never his forte. It was mainly his diet that kept him fit (and that in itself wasn't particularly healthy), as well as the once in a while treadmill running, since Teresa never stopped nagging at him about that kind of stuff.    
  
But then again, as Thomas had rushed out of Glade A yesterday night, the rebellion and cool evening air hitting against his face came to mind. The strain he felt in his legs, his gasps for breath, the sensation of his body being pushed to its limit, his heartbeat – it was kind of surreal. Not to mention the words of thanks from both Minho and Alby, the teamwork between himself and Minho, as well as the compliments he received from the Gladers.   
  
A Glade Runner. Thomas liked the sound of the title - he couldn’t deny it – taking part in competitions, outracing Grievers stealthily to get through the doors of Glade A before they locked them. It sounded exciting. The boy raised his head after being lost deep in thought.  
  
“Well—I mean, I’m not on Minho’s athletic level...”   
  
“I don’t think anyone is, but go on.”   
  
“Or his fitness level…”  
  
“Uh-huh…”  
  
“Or his intelligence leve---“  
  
“ _You in love with him or somethin’, Greenie?_ What’s your point?”  
  
“Actually, never mind, maybe our intelligence level is about equal…maybe I’m a bit higher…”  
  
“ _Like I said, what’s your point?_ ”  
  
“But I’m willing to try.” Thomas concluded, holding his hands as his face flushed, “My stamina and running is terrible when I’m conscious of it, but when I ran out of the Glade yesterday night to help you both…I just did it without thinking about myself, and focused more on you guys…and I think I can do something with that.”  
  
Alby cocked an eyebrow at the boy’s reply, arms folded – after inspecting Thomas for a moment, the Senior smirked in amusement.  
  
“Good that, Greenie. What a nice resolution. Then that means you're kinda like an anchor runner.” Alby replied, patting Thomas’ shoulder. The shorter jumped slightly at the gesture, and abruptly sent the Senior a look of curiosity at the mention of 'anchor runner', “Oh, and even if you suck and can't run for shit right now, don’t worry - Minho's definitely gonna help you out until you’re legit first string material – I mean, you are his responsibility now, given that he elected you himself.” Alby added on in reassurance - at least, that's what Thomas thought, anyway.  
  
“Wh—‘responsi’---“  
  
“Since you need to tell the Shank you wanna start practising after settling in properly, you can find him and Newt over there,” Alby interrupted with a grin, gesturing over to the school’s extremely large science block, “First door on your left - I would join you, but I’ve got council stuff to do, so I’ll see you later, yeah?”  
  
“ _…Thanks, Alby…_ ”

"Oh, and Thomas?"

"Yeah...?"

" _Welcome to The Glade._ "

* * *

“Uhm—hell…o?”   
  
Thomas’ greeting trailed off – not that it was a very loud one to begin with, but as he leaned his body to the side in caution, attempting to peek through the doorway, he turned his head around to notice a few students—or rather, teachers (at any rate, he was pretty sure it was a mixture of both) walking past him and through the hallways, white lab coats and goggles being worn as they held folders under their arms – they cocked an eyebrow at the boy, and Thomas could only purse his lips awkwardly, face heating up.   
  
A few Gladers were loitering in the hallway, messing around and being obnoxiously loud, but Thomas shook them off, proceeding to step through the first door on the left of the science block.  
  
The boy then mentally sighed out in relief to see that Newt was sat at one of the science desks, looking up at Minho, who was sat on top of the desk, hands in his pockets – the two seemed to be having an in-depth conversation, exchanging grins before abruptly turning their heads to notice Thomas with a blink.

The Greenie could sense a look of urgency on their faces; kind of like they were on the verge of being caught doing something, or that they managed to cover it up just in time. Thomas could only squint his eyes in suspicion at the two.  
  
“Oh, look who it is,” Minho addressed with a smirk, dispelling the silence.  
  
“Tommy, you alright?” Newt asked with a smile, pointing at the boy, “Y’ look like you’re scared klunkless. How was your second lesson?”  
  
“Something like that...and yeah, it was good…” Thomas trailed off in reply, not really paying attention to the two boys’ sass as he walked up to them, taking the sight of the science lab in.

Posters about scientific safety were scattered around, multiple copies of the periodic table were pasted onto the walls, multiple cupboards containing warning signs on them remained closed, and the lab equipment was thoroughly washed after the lesson, being put back in its respective place. There was also a skeleton; not a real one, of course, but the ones with intricate, scientific detail – there were multiple ones like it back at WICKED.  
  
Minho and Newt cocked an eyebrow at the boy, sending each other a look before shrugging in unison.  
  
“So, what did you want, Shuckface?” Minho asked, “Actually, don’t answer - I know you totally wanted to see me,” He added on far too confidently, readjusting his backpack which hung over his left shoulder with a smirk.  
  
“Yeah, actually, I did…” Thomas replied, “How did you know?” He added on in question.  
  
“How forward, Tommy,” Newt commented with a tease, sniggering behind his hand. Minho cocked his eyebrow yet again, also letting out a snigger.  
  
“Well, whatever,” The older boy concluded, “What d’you want?” He asked again, far more casually.

Thomas paused for a second before readjusting his bag strap, determination overtaking him.  
  
“I want to know if it’s okay to start attending practises next week," The boy began - Newt instantly sent him a curious look, and Minho simply raised both of his eyebrows, his silence telling Thomas to continue, "I just need some time to settle in and stuff…you know, catch up on studies first, wait for my things to arrive," The boy added on in explanation, pausing momentarily, "Oh, and I swear, I’ll try to attend every weekday practise! Both the before and after school ones! As well as the Sunday practise.”

“Wh—Tommy?!" Newt called out, "Are you bloody serious!? After you promised me?!" He asked, "You said so yourself - you’re not sure about havin’ a place on the team!" The blond reminded, "And besides, no other runner except for Brenda and Minho can physically do that! That’s what differentiates them from the rest as Glade Runners!”  
  
“Granted, I wasn't sure, but I am now...and I won’t overwork myself, I swear," Thomas replied in reassurance, maintaining his composure as best as he could, "I want to learn as much as I can from Minho.." He added on quietly, looking over at Minho to see him with his arms folded and peering down at him, still listening - Thomas then looked back to Newt, " Him and Alby think I deserve a place on the first string team, after all. And being part of an extracurricular activity is really good for my records. Alby spoke to me just now, and---“  
  
“ _What?!_ ”   
  
Thomas jumped in surprise at Newt’s sudden interjection, staring at the boy.  
  
“That shuckin’---I swear---that bloody… _ugh!_ ” The blond boy proceeded to carry on in frustration, straining his fingers, not quite sure how to get his anger across through his actions. Minho could only smirk, “I’m gonna go find him right now! Who does he think he is, pressurin' you like that!?"  
  
And with that, Newt noisily pushed his stool back, standing up and stomping out of the class past Thomas.  
  
"Wha...?" Thomas' voice came out more like a quiet whisper as he stared at the boy walking off, before turning his head to see Minho jumping off of the desk, the smirk still plastered on his face.

The taller boy then stood in front of Thomas, a tension-filled silence present in the Greenie’s opinion – he wasn’t particularly sure what to expect from Minho, so he feared for the worst.

“Change of heart, Greenie?” Minho asked, interrupting the boy’s thoughts as his head was tilted, hands in his pockets.

“…That a problem?” Thomas asked with a raised eyebrow, arms folded.

“Nope. No objections on my part,” Minho replied, “Glad to see you finally realised just how capable you are.” He added on, patting the boy’s shoulder.

“Thanks…” Was all Thomas could reply with, “So---uh…an ‘anchor runner’…just what is that, exactly?” The boy added on in question, “Alby said it’s the type of runner I am? Well, I think he did, anyway…”

“Pft— _you?_ An anchor runner?” Minho replied as though he couldn’t believe it, and was about to burst out into laughter – however, the boy then paused, now looking as though he was in deep thought, “Well, actually… _that kinda makes sense.._ ” He muttered, holding his chin.

“Yeah, so, what is it?” Thomas asked in persistence.

“It simply means someone who runs for the purpose of helping others,” Minho replied, “Uh, how could I explain this?” He muttered to himself - the boy then looked around the classroom for a few seconds before stepping onto the elevated platform where the teacher’s desk was located. He then began to write notes and draw on the chalkboard behind the teacher’s desk, pointing at diagrams of running strategies – Thomas could only stare.

“So one way would be to fill in for a runner that’s injured themselves before a competition and can’t run,“ The older boy explained, proceeding to draw again, “Or having a speciality in relay races – since you’re the anchor, you’d be the last runner, called an anchor leg - the fastest one who finishes the race off, and determines either the team’s loss or victory.” He added on, pointing at both the drawing of the line-up of relay runners, as well as Thomas.

“Crazy pressure…” Thomas muttered more to himself, nodding at Minho.

“That’s the life of a runner,” Minho replied with a casual shrug, “Newt usually creates the strategies, depending on the kind of competition,” He added on – Minho then turned back to the board, beginning to draw a side view of what seemed like Thomas – the Greenie noticed in awe that Minho made sure to include his moles and slightly curved nose and everything, even drawing lines on his cheeks to represent the boy’s flushed face. It did bear an uncanny resemblance to himself. Minho was good at drawing.

At the realisation of the lines on his cheeks, Thomas could feel his face heat up in embarrassment – he was about to leave due to the taller boy’s teasing, but put the thought on hold upon seeing that Minho was drawing a thought bubble above the rough sketch.

“But then again,” Minho continued on, causing Thomas to look over at the boy – he was strangely focused, continuing to add finishing touches, “An anchor runner is also a person who has  friends or loved ones— _or in your case, you weirdo,_ strangers in mind whilst running,” He explained, turning to Thomas and repeatedly tapping on the thought bubble.

“Wait---what?” Thomas asked in confusion, scratching his head.

“ _Slow…_ ” Minho sighed out – he then held out the chalk, “Come up here and write what you were thinking while running yesterday,” The boy instructed.

“Okay…?” Thomas replied steadily, eyebrow cocked as he made his way – stood in front of the chalkboard, he turned to Minho and took the chalk, their fingers momentarily brushing. The Greenie jumped slightly before turning his head to stare at the board, beginning to write, “Uh...when I was speaking to Alby just now, I told him something like…my stamina and running is usually terrible when I’m conscious of it...”

“...And?” Minho asked, arms folded as he stared at Thomas.

“And when I ran out of the Glade yesterday night to help you both…I just did it without thinking about myself…I think I focused more on you guys…so…”

Thomas wrote only one sentence in the thought bubble, and that was ‘ _we_ _just gotta get back to the dorms_ ’ – the boy was at a total blank as to what else he was thinking of. A few minutes of silence had passed, until Minho spoke up.

“Right, so it’d be something like what you said yesterday…so something like…”

Thomas instantly jumped at Minho leaning over his shoulder, taking the chalk out of his hands, their fingers brushing momentarily yet again. Thomas decided not to say a thing, simply focusing on what Minho was writing. The thought bubble now said things like:

_‘Can’t ignore people who need help.’_

_‘They need help.’_

_‘They’re going to get into trouble.’_

_‘No one else is helping them.’_

“This.” Minho finished off, taking a few steps back and leaning against the teacher’s desk, “You get it, right, Greenie?” He asked – Thomas turned himself around to look at the boy curiously, “Because of me and Alby, your subconscious took over. The thought of us getting caught and into trouble drove you to run…you didn’t want that to happen to us…so, uh…” Minho’s sentence trailed off as he scratched his head, “You’re real carin’, you know.” The boy informed – Thomas stared in surprise, “I take it you were a real nerd back at your old school?”

“…I’d like to think of myself as a badass back there,” Thomas replied with a smile, causing Minho to burst out into laughter, “But yeah, kinda. Although what I did yesterday was something I’ve never done before…”

“Then it must’ve been a longing to break some rules, too.” Minho replied, “When someone who’s been restricted from doing stuff for a long time is exposed to a new environments and surroundings, they change. In your case, it was for the better.” He informed, “So in summary, if you think of someone or something while running, you’ll forget about your stamina or whatever – you speed up. That’s what makes you an anchor runner. The specific person—or people, or thing you’re passionate about, are your anchor.”

Thomas took it back – Minho was smarter than him.

The Greenie’s face then flushed, but this time, Minho didn’t address it as he proceeded to wipe the board clean.

* * *

“I’m still pissed off at you, Tommy.” Newt muttered, slamming his locker shut. As Thomas stood by the boy, it turned out his locker was located between Newt’s and Minho’s - the Greenie then let out a breathy laugh as his head was turned to look over at Newt, head tilted.

“Newt, you gotta let the Greenie do things for himself. It’s his choice.” Minho said with a smirk, leaning against his locker, “Also, hurry up, we’ve gotta head to practise!” He urged.

“ _I am! Give me a second, bloody hell!_ ”

“Plus, Minho’s the one who’s teaching me how to run! So I’ll be fine!” Thomas added on in reassurance, “Right?” He asked, turning his head to look at Minho, who tore his eyes away from Newt, cocking an eyebrow at him.

“I am?”

“Stop joking!”

“Pft—Well, I picked you myself, and therefore, you’re my responsibility. So yeah, I guess I am,” Minho replied with a smile.

“Aww, how nice, _when’s the wedding?_ ” Newt asked bitterly, looking between the two, clearly unamused.

After a few seconds of Minho and Thomas looking at each other worriedly, the blond sighed out, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Fine, _fine._ If Minho’s the one who’s teaching you, I’m fine with it. But again, you better not overwork yourself, Tommy. You too, Minho, _but who am I kidding, you’re perfect and know your limits.”_

“Yes, _Mom_ , I gathered that.” Minho replied with a snigger, “And anyway, as the manager, it’s your job to see and monitor our progress,” He reminded, “It’ll go well, promise. Also, I need to test him out and see if he’s an anchor runner, or something even better,” The boy continued on, pointing at Thomas, “It’d be a waste not to.” He added on in reassurance, causing Newt’s pouting face to turn neutral.

“Okay, okay.” Newt sighed out – he then smiled at Thomas, “Sorry, I just—“

“I know, I know, it’s fine.” Thomas interrupted, returning the smile.

_'...Newt must really miss running again...'_

Just then, Chuck skipped over to the three boys, waving and as happy as ever, his backpack bouncing up and down. He was wearing a patterned jumper similar to Newt’s, with a pale blue button up shirt – he looked like a combination of a Minho and Newt wannabe in Thomas’ opinion; the Greenie could only stare in amusement.

“Thomas, let’s watch the movie!” The shorter boy beamed, causing Thomas’ amusement to turn into confusion.

“ _Movie?_ ” He asked, eyebrow cocked.

“The comedy movie, man! The comedy movie! We said we’d watch it after school, remember?” Chuck reminded.

“Oh—right, yeah, just give me a sec; I need to put my books away.” Thomas replied as he turned around, speeding up to take his books out of his bag. It was only his first day, and he already had so many – just thinking of Senior year made him shudder. Luckily, he wasn’t set any homework throughout the day.

“Oh yeah, that reminds me! How was your first day? Who did you sit with at lunch? I couldn’t find you anywhere!” Chuck continued on in question.

"Yeah, it was alright. I had most of my lessons with Newt and Minho…and I was with Newt at lunch…and I’m starting running practise next week.” Thomas replied with a smile as his head was turned around to look at Chuck, scratching his head.

“The Shank’s aimin’ to become a Glade Runner. He’s gonna attend all the practises.” Minho interjected, smirking at Thomas – of course, the boy’s face flushed.

“… _Woah! You can definitely do it!_ ” Chuck replied, eyes gleaming. Thomas couldn’t help but look back at the boy and smile, going back to continue his motion. Trust Chuck to always encourage him.

“But a _certain someone_ seems to think otherwise.” Minho continued on, arms folded as he was, this time, smirking at Newt.

“Slim it, ya bloody Shuckface. Don't make me out to be the bad guy here!” Newt ordered sternly, causing Minho to laugh, “Anyway, I’m done, so let’s go - the freshmen need to be timed, and I need to calculate their averages from last week,” He informed – Minho nodded as he leaned off of his locker, hands in his pockets.

“Oh, you’re both going already?” Chuck asked, somewhat dejectedly. Thomas had just finished putting his books away and kept the ones he needed, proceeding to close his locker and look between Newt and Minho curiously.

“Well, duh – I never skip practise,” Minho replied with a cocked eyebrow, “Why should this time be any different?” He asked.

“No, I just thought since Thomas was here, we’d all spend some time together,” Chuck replied, rather meekly. Thomas was just about to interject, until Minho interrupted him.

“Pft—this Greenie wishes,” Minho said, sending Thomas a smirk as he rolled his eyes. The Greenie could only squint his eyes at the taller boy.

“See you, Chuck, see you, Tommy. Try not to get into any trouble,” Newt said casually with a wave.

“Oh well, can’t be helped!” Chuck beamed – man, this kid got over things quickly, “See you, Minho, Newt!” He continued on, waving goodbye as he jumped up and down.

“See you guys…”

When the two had begun walking and were out of sight, Chuck turned to Thomas with a grin, pointing at him.

“Now then, to the dorms!”

* * *

The AB57 dorm was now filled with laughter as Chuck and Thomas were sat on the couch, a bowl of finished popcorn lying on the coffee table in front of them, as well as two cups of juice.

“Aw, man, that was just too sweet!” Chuck beamed, his laughter making his sentence unintelligible to Thomas, causing the Greenie to laugh harder than he originally was – he could feel the blood rushing to his head as he clutched his stomach in a desperate attempt to stop laughing.

“CH-Chuck, oh my god—that movie was priceless!”

“I know, I know! It's hands down one of the best!”

After a few more minutes of giggling had passed, the two let out a sigh of both relief and composure, Chuck placing the laptop on the coffee table, by the bowl of popcorn.

“Dude, that was sweet.” Thomas said with a grin, running a hand through his hair, “We should do this all the time – I could get used to it,” He added on. Chuck turned his head away from the laptop to look up at Thomas, awestruck, “Hm? What?” Thomas asked curiously, blinking down at the boy.

“Seriously? You want to?” Chuck asked, somewhat steadily.

“Pft—yeah, dude! Of course I do! Why wouldn’t I want to?” Thomas replied with a grin, ruffling the boy’s hair.

“Oh, no—it’s just…” Chuck trailed off in surprise – Thomas blinked at him curiously yet again, urging him to continue, “Well, Newt’s usually busy studying, doing his homework, and helping out at running practise…and when he does have free time, he’s with his other friends - especially Alby…he tutors me from time to time, but it’s not all that fun – he’s crazy serious about my grades, which I’m thankful for, but it can get a bit overwhelming when I can’t understand what he’s saying…” The boy then paused before continuing, “And Minho’s the Keeper of The Runners, so he never has free time. And even when he does, he goes out into the city with his friends, or does his homework, or attends his detentions, or just sits in the living room with the others.” He added on, “So you’re kinda like the only one who wants to spend time with me.”

“…But what about your other friends?” Thomas asked, not knowing what else to say. Chuck simply looked into the older boy’s eyes.

“You ever feel like people aren’t truly your friends? Just that they’re tolerating you?” The chubby boy asked, “Yeah, my situation’s kinda like that with the 10th grade kids.” He informed.

“…Chuck, I don’t blame you. When I was in the 10th grade, kids seemed to bite of more than they could chew. Still seems like that’s the case – especially with Gally,” Thomas replied with a sigh, “Why don’t you join a club or something?” He added on in question.

“I wanted to be a runner, but Minho shot me down on the spot...” Chuck replied as he scratched the back of his head with a nervous laugh.

“… _Asshole._ ” Thomas muttered.

“It’s not Minho’s fault, though!” Chuck replied in defence, taking Thomas by surprise, “He said that I wasn’t serious about having a place on the team, and he was right!” The boy informed, waving his hands all over the place, “I’m just not cut out for extracurricular activities.” He said with a sigh, hands now in his lap.

“…Well, I just want you to know I’m here whenever.” Thomas replied with a smile, “Runner or not, I’ll try to find the time to hang out with you. This week I’m off the hook, so let’s go out into the city tomorrow.” He suggested, “Oh! And we can watch more movies the day after! But my furniture arrives the day after, so I’ll need some help with bringing it to the dorm! And then the day after that we can binge out on food while watching a show or something, and so on!” The boy planned out with a bright grin.

Chuck’s face flushed as he let out a nervous laugh.

“Thanks, Thomas…”                             

“No problem - just gimmie a shout regarding which movie we’re watching next.”

“You got it! There’s actually a sequel to this one, so we could watch that next!”

“Woah, really?! Then it’s settled! And besides, when I begin running practise, I’ll still have free time afterwards to hang out with you!” Thomas reassured, “Believe it or not, I, a Shuck-faced Greenie, also need someone to hang out with!”

“That’s true!” Chuck replied with a bright laugh - Thomas truly did care for Chuck, and he was glad to see the boy was happy around him, “Well, time to do some homework…ugh…”

“It’s better to get it out of the way as soon as possible, but yeah, I feel you - I need to set up my laptop, too.” Thomas replied, standing up and walking over to his bunk, “Which reminds me, how long was that movie?” He asked, turning back around to face Chuck.

“1 hour and 48 minutes.” The plump boy replied almost instantaneously, beginning to rummage through his backpack for his books and stationary, “It’s 5:00pm anyway, so Minho should be coming back soon, unless he wants a repeat of yesterday, with his knight in shining armour coming to his rescue yet again,” The boy added on teasingly.

“Pft—cut it out, man,” Thomas said with a chuckle, shaking his head, “What about Newt?” He asked.

“Dunno. Probably with Minho, or doing something else.” Chuck replied with a shrug, before pausing, “Actually, I think I should take a shower first and wash our dishes, so don’t wait up,” He said spontaneously, jumping up and walking over to his wardrobe.

“Oh, okay,” Thomas said with a nod, seeing Chuck walk out soon after with his showering supplies, as well as dirty dishes.

* * *

As Thomas was sat at Newt’s desk, the boy sighed out – looking at his new laptop, currently resting on his blond friend’s desk, the time read 6:00pm. Newt’s laptop was moved to the side, resting on top of his books.

Chuck had come back at around 5:40pm, informing Thomas that he would do his homework in Gally’s room, since the guy needed his help. Of course, Thomas’ face soured at the information, but he couldn’t object – so, Chuck placed his dirty clothes in the laundry basket, put his showering supplies back, gathered his things, and left.

And here Thomas was. In the dorm room. Alone.

Which reminded him, just where in the world were Minho and Newt?

In that moment, the boy was snapped out of his thoughts as he jumped out of Newt’s chair when his laptop had begun to ring violently – after holding his chest and gasping for breath, he looked up at the screen to see Teresa’s name on skype.

She was ringing.

The boy instantly sat back down again, looking around sceptically, before accepting the call.

There Teresa sat – just as beautiful as ever in Thomas’ opinion, even though it looked like she hadn’t slept a wink. Her long, black hair was rather dishevelled, and her eyes were glossier than usual - when the boy noticed that she couldn’t believe what she was seeing, it made sense.

“ _Teresa…_ ” Thomas began slowly, not knowing what more to say.

After a few seconds of silence, Teresa instantly couldn’t help but shed a few tears.

“ _Woah, woah, woah!_ ” Thomas called out, waving his hands all over the place, “No, don’t cry! Don’t cry, Teresa! See? Look, I’m fine! _I’m here!_ ” He reassured with a bright grin, causing the girl on the screen to sniff and nod, wiping her eyes, even though Thomas could tell another influx were being created.

“Oh my gosh, Tom---“The girl began, but cut herself off, biting down on her lip – Thomas stared at her worriedly.

“...Is it _that bad_ without me?” He asked, a tone of sympathy in his voice. Teresa and Chuck were rather similar in the aspect of loneliness. Only now, one of them had Thomas’ company, whilst the other didn’t.

“It’s terrible, Tom!” Teresa sniffed, “Everywhere I go, I’m being treated horribly!” She informed, “They hate both me and you!”

“Shh, keep your voice down!” Thomas replied, “ _You don’t want them to hear,_ ” He added on softly, causing Teresa to nod apologetically, “Just where are you, anyway?” The boy asked with a cocked eyebrow, “I know I said call me in a desolate place, but it looks totally unfamiliar…”

“It’s the school basement,” Teresa replied, “I have nowhere else to go for our calls... All the students are everywhere I go, and the teachers won’t get off of my case…” She explained, “The girls in my dorm are as bitchy as ever, too,” She added on bitterly.

Thomas’ heart ached for Teresa – behind her, it seemed like it was a clean enough basement, but it was dim, with blue lights, and shelves of school supplies.

".. _I wish Ricky was here_..." The girl added on with a whisper, looking down in melancholy.

Thomas couldn't help but furrow his brows at the mention of the girl's elder brother - he knew how close they were, after all, but Ricky and her parents were currently far away.

“Dee, I'm sorry…” The boy apologised through a guilty mutter, “I’ll quickly tell you what _really_ happened - the full story - then you can hate me and end the call, alright?” He asked, and Teresa shook her head vigorously.

“I like spending time with you, Tom, no matter where I am.” She replied, "And I'd never hate you." She added on, and Thomas couldn’t help but smile.

“I’ve missed you.” He replied.

“It’s been eight days since I last saw you,” Teresa brought up with a sigh, a slight smile present, “It feels like an eternity…”

“We’ll see each other again,” Thomas reassured, “Don’t worry.”

“Your mom rang me, saying that you would get back to me as soon as possible…and that you were sorry - it’s not your fault,” She brought up, “…After that assembly, I was trying to wrap my head around it over and over. You attacked Spilker - but you said it was out of self defence... _just what happened, Tom?_ ”

Thomas shifted uncomfortably at the question – if he were to tell Teresa the absolute truth, she’d blame herself for Thomas. But then again, the two have trusted each other since they were kids, and Thomas wasn’t going to betray her trust now.

_Not ever._

“Listen, I just want you to know that it’s _absolutely not your fault_ , so don’t you _ever_ think that, alright?” Thomas asked, “You need to promise me, so I can tell you…” He added on.

Teresa looked worriedly at Thomas before frowning in thought – a few minutes had passed until she nodded her head.

“Okay, lay it on me.” She replied.

“Okay,” Thomas began as he sighed out, somewhat unsteady, “The only thing I did was tackle Spilker, and that was when Janson intervened...there was a reason behind it all,” He informed, and Teresa nodded seriously, frowning, “When we were studying in the library, and I was called into Paige's office that Sunday, she…” He trailed off, not knowing how to say it, “She wanted me to…”

“Tom,” Teresa said cautiously, after a few minutes of silence, while Thomas struggled to get the words out, “ _What?_ ” She asked, as though she already knew, “ _What did she want you to do?_ ”

“…She wanted me to…give her a reason to expel _you_ , so she _could_ …” Thomas replied meekly, “She wants you out of the school, Teresa, and I don’t know why…You’re the only one who’s tried their absolute hardest at WICKED, and it’s just not fair on you to stay there!” He added on, “I told her it’s wrong, I told her I wouldn’t, since you’re my friend and you’ve done nothing wrong, anyway,” He continued, “ _But Spilker hit me._ Can you believe it, she allowed him to  _hit me_ since I was defending you! She smiled at the sight! A teacher---”

“Tom—“

“And, just—“ Thomas interrupted, “That was why I tackled Spilker to the floor, until Janson interfered...I was made to pack, and sent home with a week’s suspension – then, on Thursday, they sent me and mom a letter, saying I was expelled…” He finished off angrily, feeling his fists ball up.

It felt good explaining it all and saying it out loud, but Thomas was now worried for Teresa. He stared at her intently, trying to figure out her facial expression.

“Thomas, I love you…” She said, and Thomas blinked at her in surprise.

“W-what?” He asked in a stutter, hands in his lap.

“You defended me, and I’m so thankful for you doing so,” She added on, “You’ve always protected me…You’re my best friend, and I love you.”

Thomas’ face instantly heated up, causing him to laugh nervously.

“Y-Yeah…uhm…me too… _you, that is,_ ” He stuttered out in reply, not knowing where to look, causing Teresa to giggle – after a while of silence, he then stared at the screen, seeing the girl was now in deep thought, holding her chin.

“…But I just don’t get it… _why you_?” Teresa asked, “She could have told any other student to do this, or have just expelled me anyway, without reason, or made up a reason…but for some reason…she asked _you_ …” She trailed off in a mutter, causing Thomas to shrug.

“I think it was a test,” Thomas suggested, “Seeing how far I could keep the ‘loyal student’ charade up, I guess...Expelling you without reason, or a made up reason, would probably play on her messed up moral conscience, too.”

“But it wasn’t a charade on your part,” Teresa reasoned, “I think she actually _trusted_ you, believe it or not…” She informed, and Thomas blinked, stupefied.

He then kissed his teeth, looking away.

“Well, I don’t trust _her_ …”

“But Tom, on a serious note - if Spilker hit you, and Ava Paige permitted it, then you could make a case against them for it…as well as the school!” Teresa brought up, “Why haven’t you?” She asked, “What if more kids are going to get treated the way you were?” She added on.

“The court wouldn’t believe me if I brought the case to their attention. The system is an absolute mess,” Thomas sighed out, “Even Mom agrees, so we’re keeping quiet about it…they would believe an elite school over a teenage kid who doesn’t know any better any day.” He muttered distastefully.

“Not just any teenage kid, though,” Teresa reasoned, “Your files and records are practically spotless!”

“Yeah, but they can get their hands on the best lawyers…Me and Mom just can’t afford it…” Thomas replied, “Look, anything regarding WICKED is now officially none of my business.” He added on in conclusion, "It was embarrassing enough having to explain to the schools I applied for why I was expelled from such an elite place."

“…I understand, Tom. I understand.” Teresa nodded,

Thomas replied with a shrug, offering the girl a sympathetic smile.

"But where are you now? Your mom told me it was a place called….Runner? Through a scholarship?” She asked.

“Maze Runner,” He corrected in reply, looking around the dorm, “It’s a pretty sweet place, I can’t deny it,” He added on with a slight grin, “And yeah, I’m here through a scholarship - I mean, just look at the dorm rooms!” He gestured, lifting his laptop and moving it from side to side to show the room off, “They can _decorate_ their rooms, Teresa! WICKED never allows that!” He beamed, “I’m given my weekly allowance every Tuesday, so I can go out and spend it, or save it, so---“ The boy then cut himself off, instantly changing the conversation, “Oh, and that’s my bunk on the bottom! The guy on top is super sporty and kinda irritating, but he’s an alright guy nonetheless,” He informed, putting his laptop back on the desk, and Teresa stared in awe.

“Woah, these guys know how to clean up after themselves,” She said, “Not like these pigs over here, who practically have servants kiss their asses,” She muttered, causing Thomas to laugh.

“I wouldn’t really count on it,” Thomas replied, “You should see the hallway – pillow feathers and toilet rolls scattered all over the damn place,” He added on, causing Teresa to giggle.

“Since I’m definitely getting out of this hellhole, I might as well come and join you,” She said, and Thomas paused.

“Yeah, that’s kinda the catch – I’m here on a condition too,” The boy informed, scratching the back of his head, and Teresa blinked at him curiously, “No one at this place can know I came from WICKED…”

“..Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, who knows that you used to?”

“The principal, but that’s it…I think?” Thomas said, rather unsure himself.

“Hm, I don’t blame him,” Teresa replied with a shrug, “This place seriously sucks. If people over there found out you used to attend here, I think you’d get treated differently.”

“Yeah, I can’t argue with you on that,” Thomas sighed out, laughing nervously, “But seriously, you should attend here. Principal Jorge’s an awesome guy, so I’m sure he wouldn’t mind…plus, it’d be nice to see you again.”

“I’ll definitely talk to Mom and Dad about it. But I think transferring might take a while.” Teresa replied, rather sceptical.

“It took me a day to transfer,” Thomas informed, “I think you’ll be fine,” He said with a grin, “Today was my first day.”

Teresa blinked in surprise.

“And? How is the school itself?” She asked curiously.

“It’s perfect and I love it.”

“ ** _Really?_** ”

“ _No, that was a lie._ ”

“ _Hah!_ ”

“But then again, it’s high school. Teenagers like us are meant to hate it.” Thomas said with a smile, causing Teresa to return it.

“Tom, you’re one of a kind, seriously.” She said – Thomas’ face instantly flushed yet again, “You’ve changed since I last saw you…and not in, like a, ‘oh, you’ve physically changed because that’s what happens over time’ sort of way, but more like a...personality wise kind of change. It’s a really good change. You were somewhat distant before, focusing mostly on studies, and I can comfortably tell you this now, because you’ve changed for the better.”

“Geez, seriously, what’s up with you saying that kind of thing?!” The boy asked, hands brought up to cover his face, clearly embarrassed – Teresa had begun to laugh uncontrollably, the echo of her voice resonating throughout the basement. The boy then placed his hands back in his lap when she had stopped.

“Well...thank you, but…I don’t want you to spend time down there any more, so should we end the call?” Thomas asked – Teresa shook her head.

“I still have time to spare until dinner,” The girl informed, “I can manage.”

“Alright.” Thomas nodded. Now that he was reminded, the boy checked the clock yet again to see it was 6:20pm, “Well, dinner starts in ten minutes for me.” He informed, beginning to look around, “Which reminds me, I wonder where my roommates are at.”

“The sporty one?” Teresa enquired.

“Yeah, him. And another one with a posh British accent,” Thomas replied with a grin, “There was also another one, a young kid called Chuck, who’s a year below me – he’s real sweet. But he’s gone to…I guess you could say a friend’s room…to do some homework with them.” He explained.

“How cute!” Teresa said with a smile, “So…” She began, and Thomas tilted his head curiously – he then blinked in realisation – when Teresa started her sentences off like that, it clearly meant---“These other two guys…tell me about ‘em. They hot?” She asked with a smirk, an eyebrow raised, “And any chicks over there that’ve caught your eye?”

Thomas groaned, rolling his eyes.

“I don’t know if they’re attractive!” He snapped, “And no way! I mean, a few of the girls here have approached me, and they’re all pretty or whatever, but no, not in that way. “ He added on.

“I beg to differ, Thomas. You’re blushing an awful lot. I wonder if it’s cause of the guys or the girls.”

“ _Obviously the girls!_ What’re you saying!?”

“Oh,” Teresa said in surprise, “So there _is_ a girl.”

“Well—I mean,” Thomas sighed out, scratching his head, “Brenda’s pretty cool, but I dunno. Geez, it’s only been a day, leave me alone!” He whined, covering his flushed face with his hands yet again. Teresa sniggered at the boy.

“Oh relax, I’m only teasing – I know the only one for you is me, after all!” She replied with a grin.

Thomas was just about to let out a sigh when he jumped in surprise at the sound of the door to the room opening.

“We’re back, Shanks!----Hm? Oh, it’s just you in here?”

“Damn, it’s too cold outside---Oh? Who you speakin’ to, Tommy?”

Thomas turned himself around to see Newt and Minho stood by each other, the two of them wearing extremely smart peacoats – Newt’s was black, while Minho’s was a dark gray. Newt’s pale face was flushed a soft pink, and Minho seemed to be unaffected as he cocked an eyebrow at the sight of Teresa on Thomas’ screen.

“Oh—Uh, welcome back…” Thomas greeted – the boy then paused, “Wait—coats?” He asked, and Newt blinked down at his before looking up to grin at the boy.

“It was in my bag for the whole day.”

“Same here.” Minho added on, “Don’t worry, Shank. We didn’t go coat shoppin’ or nothin’, leaving you out.” He said with a smirk.

“Wh—I wasn’t worrying!” Thomas replied with a cocked eyebrow, face flushing – Newt had begun to take his coat off with a relaxed sigh, as Minho was making his way over to his bunk, also taking his coat off, “And anyway, where were you two? You’ve obviously gone out somewhere. It’s 6:25pm. You know if you had been five minutes later, then you’d be in deep--“

“You’re the last person I want an earful from, Shank.” Minho said in amusement, pulling on Thomas’ cheek with a teasing grin.

“We were taking a walk,” Newt added on with a smile, “Don’t worry, Tommy, I kept my eye on the time. We spent ten minutes walking back over here.” He explained.

“And anyway, what’re _you_ doin’?” Minho asked, eyes flickering to look at Teresa yet again, who was attempting to hold her laughter in. Desperately.

“I’m ‘peaking to my childhood frien’,” Thomas explained, “Let go ov’ my cheek!” He said, causing Minho to let go and stare down at him.

“Hmm…I see…” The older boy replied – he then paused before shoving Thomas out of the way, proceeding to squeeze himself to sit on the same seat as the Greenie, smirking at Teresa.

“Hey girl – the name’s Minho - how you doin’?” He asked, gesturing finger guns at her. Thomas whipped his head to his left to look at the guy in disbelief.

“ _Dude—_ “

“This must be…sporty one?” Teresa asked in interruption, looking at Thomas with a smile – Minho blinked at the question, and Newt had let out a snort of laughter.

“Uh, yeah…this is…” Thomas looked over to his left yet again, then back at the screen, sighing as he presented the boy next to him, “ _Minho…_ ”

“You sound like you’re introducing the Grim Reaper or something!” Minho snapped, “At least pretend to be enthusiastic!”

“Ugh,” Thomas replied, pinching the bridge of his nose with his eyes squeezed shut. Minho then stood up, lightly smacking the boy around his head.

“Slim it, Shuckface,” Minho said, “Anyway, nice to meet you, uh…” He squinted an eye, sentence trailing off – he then noticed Teresa’s skype name, “Teresa.” He finished off. The girl nodded in reply, smiling.

“Nice to meet you, Minho.”

To be honest, Thomas expected the boy to reply with a ‘that’s my name, don’t wear it out’, or something that sounded equally ridiculous, but he blinked in curiosity and turned around in Newt’s chair to see that Minho had left after chucking his coat on his bunk.

“What was that all about?” Thomas asked in confusion, looking over at Newt.

“He’s probably hungry and wants to be one of the first to get served. He did say he was starving.” Newt shrugged, standing on his tiptoes to chuck his coat on his bunk. The boy then turned to Thomas with a smile, walking up to him, “So, this is the childhood friend you were texting today?” He asked with a smirk, a hand on his hip - Thomas rolled his eyes at the boy, causing Newt to nod in recognition, “Ah, right,” He mused. The Greenie then turned himself back around to face Teresa.

“Teresa, Newt,” He introduced, gesturing to the blond – he then looked back at Newt, then Teresa, “Newt, Teresa.”

Newt leaned over Thomas’ shoulder as he held the backrest of the chair, waving at the laptop camera with a smile.

"Hi there - I’m Thomas’ roommate, Newt,” The boy introduced, “Pleasure to meet you.”

“You must be the one with the posh British accent,” The girl replied, returning a bright smile, “Charmed, I’m sure.”

Newt simply chuckled with a reply of ‘I get that a lot’.

“Anyway, Tommy, just wanted to know how long you’re usin’ my desk for.” The blond brought up casually with a smirk. Thomas instantly stared at the boy in surprise, before scrambling around to pick his laptop up.

“Oh, right, sorry, dude—I swear, my stuff is coming the day after tomorrow, so I’ll have my desk, and—“  
  
“Relax, Greenbean,” Newt snorted with a roll his eyes, patting the boy’s shoulder, “I can see you’re busy, so I’ll just do my work on the coffee table,” He said, turning around and walking over to the table, proceeding to open his school bag.

“Seriously, thanks, dude...I was going to move it as soon as the bell for dinner went...” Thomas replied.

“It’s fine, it’s fine!”

“..‘Greenbean’?” Teresa repeated with a tilt of her head, “Sounds like a flirtatious nickname…” She trailed off. Thomas instantly whipped his head around to face the girl, disbelief written all over his face. He then gestured for her to not say any more, and she instantly cut herself off.

“Hm? Did you say something?” Newt asked, turning his head around with a blink, and Thomas shook his head repeatedly, smiling, "That reminds me, have you told her about your place on the team?" The blond added on curiously.

"Oh, no, actually--" Thomas said, turning back around to face Teresa, who was blinking at the boy with a smile.

"Tell me what?" 

Just then, the bell signifying dinner had begun to ring, and in no time, boys were rushing past the door, yelling out enthusiastically. Teresa gaped at the sight behind Thomas.

“Holy heck—“

“Yeah, it gets kinda hectic at dinner,” Thomas replied with a nervous laugh, “So—uhm, I gotta get going—“

“Of course, of course,” Teresa interrupted, looking somewhat worried, “Make sure you tell me whatever it is you were going to when we call again. Just be safe, yeah?”

“Don’t worry, I will.”

“Well then.”

“Until next time?”

“Definitely!”

The two then hung up the call in unison.


	5. Pies & Pleasure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧Hey there, dear readers!
> 
> Maan, it's been quite a while since another update, hasn't it? Ahaha! Again, just wanted to let you all know I'm super  
> sorry! It's really hard to start building up to all of the ideas I have for this fic through the chapters,  
> and I'm kinda making some of this up as I go along, so I really appreciate you guys' comments & patience! |D;;
> 
> And honestly, I'm so thankful for over 100+ kudos on this fic, as well as being featured on the 'Top 20 Thominho Fic Rec'  
> ((Just wanted to say a hUGE thank you to those of you who voted for my fic, and straighouttatheglade for making  
> this wonderful post, like honestly omf g ll;;;// <3))
> 
> Also, I've made a fic collage for this fic, as well as a fic trailer, which can be found below!~  
> http://kisstheloststars.tumblr.com/post/135456019143/fic-collage-high-schoolthominho-the-glade  
> http://kisstheloststars.tumblr.com/post/139502996293/%EF%BE%9F-i-made-a-fanfiction-trailer-for-my-high
> 
> OKAY, SO FINALLY, in other news, I have 2 important announcements for this fic!:
> 
> 1\. 
> 
> Since I'm always on Tumblr, and you might be wondering how the fic is coming along, you can track  
> the following tag(s) to see if I've posted any news on it, or if I've made anything else related to the fic!  
> . Fic: The Glade Runner  
> . The Glade Runner  
> . Fic Announcement: The Glade Runner
> 
> AND OF COURSE, you are all welcome to use 'The Glade Runner' & 'Fic: The Glade Runner' tag if you want to talk about  
> the fic with me/others over tumblr, or show/draw something related! I know I sound really obnoxious and vain, but it's just to put you all at ease if you were wondering whether or not it's okay to do so! So, literally, I don't mind aT ALL, AND I GREATLY WELCOME IT!!
> 
> 2\. 
> 
> OKAY, so, this chapter is actually NSFW - haha, yeah, I know - it is rated M for a reason, though, and  
> this is my first time writing smut, so I'm super embarrassed to post this |D;; ((I greatly welcome any constructive  
> criticism, since this fic will consist of a lot more NSFW)) The smut is basically the near end of the chapter, if you're  
> curious, so if you feel uncomfortable with it, please don't force yourself to read it! c: 
> 
> And that's all for this chapter!! Please enjoy it, dear readers!~ *:･ﾟ✧

Dinner that evening went rather swiftly for Thomas – upon seeing Minho already sat at one of the extended tables in the dorm cafeteria, hand on his cheek, clearly in a trance, Thomas noticed that the other runners had yet to reach the Keeper. The Greenie then took it upon himself to provide the runner with company, walking over and taking a seat, far too composedly and casually, given that he had only met the older boy yesterday. He didn’t know what it was, but he was kind of drawn to Minho.

Surprisingly enough for Thomas, Minho hadn’t said a thing – he merely gave a quick glance in his direction, nodded, then proceeded to daydream yet again; his mannerisms undoubtedly struck the Greenie as odd. Newt quickly followed Thomas, sitting in front of the two boys with a beam, beginning meaningless teenage topics of conversation after Chuck’s appearance next to them.

As dinner had progressed, Thomas noticed that the other runners seemed to be sitting a respectable distance away from Minho, and he blinked curiously, placing his rice-filled spoon down, deciding to address it.

“Say, why aren't the guys sat with you?” The boy began in question, turning his head to look over at Minho.

The taller boy was busy holding a relatively small bowl (in comparison to his body) with both of his hands, head tilted back as audible gulps could be heard – Thomas cocked an eyebrow and closed his eyes, shaking his head at the sight.

“You Shanks are sat with me, so they feel as though they can’t,” Minho sighed out casually in reply, placing his bowl of soup down, licking his lips as he whispered a small ‘delicious’ under his breath - Newt couldn’t help but let out a snigger at the gesture, whereas Chuck was too busy eating to pay attention.

“..What’s that supposed to mean? We too lame for them to hang around or something?” Thomas asked, peering over at the group of runners who were far too busy talking to one another to notice the Greenie.

“Nope, not _‘we’_ , just _you_.” Newt interjected with a smirk – Thomas’ face flushed as he snapped a small ‘shut up’ in reply, causing Minho to snigger, and Newt to grin in a mischievous triumph.

"Nah, it’s more complicated than that, Greenie – I guess something to do with attachment and bonds?” The taller boy informed, head tilted - now in thought as he held his chin, he continued on, “It’s like…when they see me with a group of people who aren’t themselves, they wanna give me space…of course, I do the same thing. In fact, isn’t it part of human nature to do so? Those guys have their own lives to tend to, and believe it or not, not everything revolves around me, so…you get it, Greenie?” He asked simply.

Thomas blinked quizzically, giving repeated nods in reply as he went back to eating – Minho was by far one of the most self-absorbed people Thomas ever met.

Not that that was particularly a bad thing.

After a while, it seemed to the Greenie that Gally was incapable of keeping his mouth shut, even for a split second. The 10th grader’s booming voice resounded throughout the dorm cafeteria as he sat on the very end of the extended table, his friends following his gestures and topics of conversation. They hadn't bothered to pay attention to Thomas or stir up trouble, which Thomas wished would be the case forever.

* * *

 

“I can’t take this any more!”

“Chuck, you’re on the final question, relax – also, the answer there is minus two…”

“Oh, right!”

“…You seriously don’t get it, do you?”

“….No.”

“ _I figured as much._ ”

As Thomas was sat at Newt’s desk yet again, the Greenie had finally finished installing all of the necessary programmes onto his new laptop - he then turned his head around upon hearing Newt and Chuck’s conversation to see Newt sigh out, arms folded as an irritated look was written all over his face - the blond was sat on the floor next to Chuck at a respectable distance, who was leaning forward on the coffee table and scribbling random mathematic equations, face having pure worry written all over it.

Newt seemed to have his own work to be getting on with, as the relatively small pile of sheets were laying there on his side of the coffee table. Thomas truly felt bad for borrowing the desk at this point, and he couldn't help but stand up spontaneously.

Newt blinked in surprise at the gesture, and Chuck looked up at Thomas, eyes having lost all hope at this point – well, Thomas could understand; mathematics did that to a person.

“I can do it…if you want,” Thomas offered Chuck with a smile, getting up and walking over to the two boys, “Newt, I’ll help him out, so you can finish your work off.” He said, looking at the blond with a grin.

“ _Seriously?_ ” Newt asked, instantaneously sighing out in relief, “Thanks, Tommy! These sheets are due for tomorrow, so---“

“Don’t worry. I’ve got this.” Thomas interrupted with a thumbs up, proceeding to sit at the end of the coffee table on Chuck’s side.

“Thanks, Thomas, I just don’t get these at all,” Chuck informed sheepishly, face flushed as he scratched the back of his head.

“I feel you, man,” Thomas said with a laugh, taking the sheet which Chuck held out for him, “Let’s see…” He muttered, examining the sheet, “Oh! I was pretty okay at these kind of questions back at W---….my old school.” He informed with a beam, mentally scolding himself for almost bringing WICKED up.

Thankfully, as he looked up at Chuck, the younger boy didn’t seem to realise, and Newt was already immersed in his own work as he was leaning forward, head down low while writing – he seemed to have finished two of the sheets off already, which Thomas couldn’t help but gape at distractedly. He then coughed repeatedly, turning back to Chuck and placing the sheet down in front of the boy.

“Uh, at any rate, the answer there is actually minus four,” He informed after a few minutes, tapping on the second to last question.

Newt’s hand then twitched as he stopped writing, bringing his eyes to look up at Thomas, who noticed the gesture and looked at the blond.

“What?” He asked, causing Chuck to blink curiously, now also looking at Newt.

“Minus two was the answer I gave him. But you got something different,” Newt pointed out, instantly bringing his calculator out, beginning to tap away at it.

“Oh, uh…” Thomas’ sentence trailed off as he nervously looked back down at the question, going over the calculations he was taught in his head, “Well, I’ve always solved these kinds of questions this way, and I usually get them right…but I might be wrong this time round.”

After a while of silence, Thomas noticed Chuck fidgeting in impatience, and Newt’s scowling face release itself.

“No… _you’re right_...” Newt said as he tore his eyes away from the calculator to look at Thomas – the Greenie blinked in surprise at the gesture, and simply gave a nod in reply after a few seconds of silence.

“Amazing!” Chuck beamed, instantly scribbling the incorrect answer out.

“To be corrected on my own math skills…” Newt muttered to himself in disbelief as he looked down at his own work, thumb and index holding his chin, “Which school did you used to go to again, Tommy?” He asked, bringing his head up to look at the Greenie.

“O-oh, uh…like I said before, it was nowhere special, really...” Thomas insisted, scratching the back of his head with a laugh, undoubtedly caught off guard by the question – seeing Newt’s unamused face told him that the blond wouldn’t take that for an answer, “But I tend to study a lot, so I know a lot of things…” He added on, “My placement here was through a merit-based scholarship.” He informed.

“So that clueless act you put on in maths this morning was just to get Harriet and my little sister to pay attention to you?” Newt asked after a few seconds with a smirk, arms folded, “You sly Greenie!” He teased. Thomas’ face flushed as he shook his head repeatedly – Chuck only sniggered at Newt’s comments.

“No, dude, I honestly couldn’t keep up with some of the formulas today!” Thomas insisted, "I mean, Sonya's your little sister! I would never try to pull her! That's just wrong!"

“Sure, I believe you, Genius Tommy,” Newt replied, the smirk not leaving his face – the boy put his calculator back into his bag, proceeding to continue on with his work.

“Newt, seriously!” Thomas whined, “Please don’t call me that!”

“But still, I sure am surprised!” Chuck beamed, “To think we have a genius scholarship kid sharing a dorm with us! And for it to be Thomas!”

“ ** _H-hey, I can’t help but feel as though you’ve blatantly insulted me._** ” Thomas muttered, eyes squinted at Chuck as his hands were in his lap. Chuck merely laughed in reply, Newt letting out a few chuckles.

After a while of Thomas teaching Chuck useful mathematic formulas, the Greenie noticed that the 10th grader was surprisingly sharp, and caught on fast when he understood something – it surprised him even more when Chuck had managed to correctly answer the last question on his own, without his help. The kid had potential.

“Wow…I’m impressed, Tommy,” Newt said with a whistle, arms folded – the blond seemed to have finished all of his work for the day after placing the sheets in his bag, now staring down at Chuck’s homework, “Maybe I should get you to tutor me from now on!” He said with a smile, looking away from the sheet and into Thomas’ eyes – the Greenie was taken aback by such a comment, as well as Newt’s bright smile, and couldn’t help but laugh as his face flushed.

“I didn’t really do that much – it was Chuck who answered it,” Thomas replied, looking over at the plump boy, who seemed to be extremely proud of himself, a radiating atmosphere practically enveloping him.

“Good job, ya wee little fat shank!” Newt complimented with a grin, ruffling Chuck’s hair. The younger boy seemed to be the happiest Thomas had ever seen him, and the Greenie couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

Just then, at the sound of the door opening, the three boys turned their heads to see Minho walk through, towel resting around his neck yet again as he held his showering supplies.

“Look who finally decided to show up,” Newt commented with a smirk, “You enjoy your half an hour shower, _Your Highness?_ ” He asked (clearly mocking the taller boy, Thomas couldn’t help but think).

“Beats sittin’ around here doing homework like you nerds,” Minho replied casually – Thomas could see a slight smile tugging at the corner of Minho’s lips as the Keeper walked over to his wardrobe, opening it. Again, the boy was wearing his pale blue tank top, as well as black shorts which reached down to his knees. Thomas wondered if Minho would ever stop applying hair gel to his black hair, as he seemed to have applied some straight after his shower. As the Keeper crouched down to put his things away in his wardrobe, Thomas stared up at the guy’s back muscles; there were still traces of water droplets on Minho’s tanned skin.

“Actually, I think you’ll find that our dear ol’ Tommy here is the biggest nerd of us all,” Newt brought up, eyes gleaming in amusement – Thomas’ cheeks instantly heated up as he bit his lip, frowning at Newt, “The Greenie says he got into this place through a scholarship.” The blond added on, causing Chuck to snigger.

“Oh, really?” Minho asked monotonously, standing up and closing the wardrobe – Thomas was just about to interject until the taller boy then turned around and pointed down at him. Thomas blinked at the action, looking up at Minho with a cocked eyebrow.

“What?”

“Come with me,” Minho answered, walking out of the room before Thomas could even reply – the Greenie stared at the doorway in shock, turning his head to face Newt and Chuck in question, whom both shrugged innocently, shaking their heads.

“ _Hurry it up, Greenie!_ ” Came Minho’s voice from the hallway, causing Thomas to quickly scramble up off of the floor, patting down his long sleeved blue shirt and navy tracksuit bottoms, before disappearing into the hallway to follow the older boy.

Upon seeing Minho going down the stairs to the 2nd floor of the Glade, Thomas jogged over to his side, somewhat out of breath, deciding to keep quiet.

“Wow, already out of breath, Greenie?” Minho brought up in question, an eyebrow cocked as he looked down at Thomas, smirking, “How you’ll survive on the first string, I’ll never know,” He said with a shrug, shaking his head.

“You’re just too fast for me,” Thomas replied with a pout, now stabilizing his breathing, “You need to warm up before jogging or running, so my sudden body movement made it difficult to adjust.” He added on matter-of-factly, causing Minho to snigger.

“Right,” Minho replied, extending his answer out (somewhat obnoxiously in Thomas’ opinion).

“So, where are we going, exactly?” Thomas asked curiously, changing the topic as his hands were placed behind his back.

“You’ll see.” Minho replied simply, looking straight ahead, hands in his pockets.

“Well…that can’t be good,” Thomas replied – Minho looked over at Thomas yet again.

“What d’you mean by that, Shank?” The Keeper asked, a tone of caution to his voice.

“Well, usually when someone says ‘you’ll see’, it either means a severe ass kicking, or bad news.” Thomas replied sarcastically.

“Or in some cases, a make out session,” Minho added on with a smug smirk.

“ _All of which I **don’t** want to occur._” Thomas replied in clarification, eyes squinted.

“You wish it though, Greenie.” Minho replied – Thomas merely shook his head at the reply, continuing to follow the boy.

After going down the flight of stairs on the 2nd floor, the two runners found themselves walking past the living room where most of the Gladers were passionately conversing, the television being heard in the background.

Thomas realised he often lagged behind Minho as he was staring at the guy’s muscles – he wondered if he had to achieve the Keeper’s level of muscle to run at the speed he runs. It sounded like a drag, but he had made a promise to Minho to do his absolute best on the first string. Plus, Brenda had offered to help him out whenever he needed it. Not to mention Newt – he couldn’t let his friends down.

“Here we are, Shank.”

Minho’s voice instantly snapped Thomas out of his trance, the Greenie blinking in recognition – he then cocked an eyebrow, walking up to Minho’s side.

“Why are we in the dorm cafeteria?” Thomas asked, more confused than curious.

As the two boys stood in the spacious hall, the eerie silence enveloped them both; Thomas felt himself on slight edge, but paid no attention to it when he noticed the moonlight shining through the multiple windows – there was no real need to turn the lights on, and the Gladers seemed to have washed all of the dishes up after dinner – Thomas was willing to bet Frypan was one of them.

“I have something to give you,” Minho replied, walking over into the kitchen – Thomas was far too distracted with following the boy to listen that well, tripping over one of the tables. Feeling as though he was about to fall, the boy quickly grabbed Minho’s arm to steady himself, one leg balancing up in the air as his entire body was leaning forward.

“ ** _Fuck, fucking----Sorry, sorry!---_** “ Thomas abruptly cut his apology off, blinking in surprise, “ _Wait, what? Me?_ ” He asked, looking up at Minho to see that the taller boy was staring down at him in surprise – Minho then pushed Thomas backwards to stand up straight.

“Oh, uh, thanks---“

“Slim it, Shank,” Minho interrupted with a roll of his eyes, smiling, “It’s nothing that extravagant.” He informed, causing Thomas to let out a huff – trust the Keeper to ruin the feelings of gratitude Thomas felt towards him at any given time.

“Alright, so…” Thomas’ sentence trailed off as he was far more aware of the tables, attempting to enter the kitchen yet again, “What is it?” He asked.

“Greenbean, you sure can’t stop your shuck self from askin’ a klunk-load of questions, huh?” Minho asked, smirking – Thomas felt his face heat up.

“Well, you’re makin’ such a big deal out of it, so---“

“ ** _Minho, hurry up and give the Greenie his bloody welcome party already!_** ”

Thomas instantly flinched at the voice which hadn’t belonged to himself or Minho, and quickly turned around to see Newt stood there with a bright grin, arms folded as Chuck was stood by his side with a beam. Thomas sighed out in relief, but soon cocked his eyebrow yet again, looking from Minho (who didn’t seem all that surprised by their appearance) to Newt and Chuck.

“Okay, seriously, what is going on?” Thomas asked, mannerisms getting the point across that he was now worried, “Party? I’m so confused - like, what-----“

“I told you I should’ve been the one to bring him down here!” Newt snapped at Minho, causing the taller boy to roll his eyes.

“It doesn’t really make a difference, does it?” Minho reasoned.

“Sure does! You’ve scared the guy half to death! And you’re not being welcoming at all!” Chuck replied with a laugh, pointing at Thomas – The Greenie squinted his eyes at the three boys, clearly unamused by all of the secrecy. Newt seemed to notice, the grin not leaving his face.

“Tommy, tonight you’re our guest of honour!” The blond beamed in explanation, patting Thomas’ shoulder, “And to celebrate your first day at Maze Runner, _we’ve taken it upon ourselves to hold a surprise party for you!_ ”

“We were setting all of the snacks and movies up in the room just now!” Chuck explained excitedly, “But Minho was takin’ his sweet time bringin’ you down here, so we couldn’t help but come down here, too – only to see that Minho hasn’t even given you your present yet!” He added on, causing the Keeper to send a glare in his direction, “Anyway, these two told me about it this mornin’, and I was pretty close to lettin’ it slip a few times, but luckily I didn’t! It’s practically a tradition for the Gladers who’ll be sharing a dorm room with the new Greenie to hold a welcoming party for him!” Chuck informed.

“Wasn’t it we did somethin’ like this for Chuck when he first transferred, too?” Minho asked Newt, causing the blond to nod in reply.

As though he had forgotten such a memory, despite knowing the tradition, Chuck’s eyes widened in recognition, letting out an ‘oh yeah!’ – Newt and Minho merely shook their heads at the 10th grader, a smile on their faces.

Thomas was at a total loss for words as he stared at the three boys.

“Pft, what kinda face is that, Greenie?” Minho asked with a smirk, “What, you got nothin’ to say?” He added on in question, sniggering as he slapped Thomas’ back playfully – Thomas instantly jumped at the action, beginning to fumble with his hands as his eyes were downcast, feeling his flustered mannerisms overtake him.

“Wow, I, uh…thank you…” He replied, feeling as though his ears were now a bright shade of red, “…No one’s ever done this kind of thing for me, so I seriously don’t know what to say…” He added on, causing Chuck, Minho, and Newt to exchange a look of surprise between each other.

“ _Tommy, that’s so cute!_ ” Newt said with a grin, holding the boy in a passionate headlock as he began ruffling his hair up, resulting in Chuck cheering the blond boy on. Minho cocked an eyebrow at the sight, arms folded.

“Ah---geez, Newt, seriously---lemme go!” Thomas called out, attempting to be released from the guy’s iron grip. Yup, definitely an ex-runner, Thomas thought.

“Not a chance, Greenie! If you can’t get outta my grip, then you’ll have to revoke your place on the first string!” Newt replied in triumph.

“What?!” Thomas asked in shock, “No way! Anything but that!” He added on, causing Newt to release him – Thomas blinked in curiosity, but soon saw Chuck and Newt exchange a look which was full of pure, villainous intent.

“Well, Tommy, if you say so,” Newt began with a smirk, “Considering the fact that I let you out of my grip, you’ll still have to do the penalty!” He informed, causing Chuck to snigger – Thomas squinted his eyes at the two boys, letting out a defeated sigh soon after.

“Go on, then,” He replied, “Lay it on me.”

“You need to ask Brenda to the upcoming Halloween dance,” Newt said, the smirk not leaving his face, arms folded – in that moment, both Chuck and Minho winced, Minho letting out a few sniggers.

“Upcoming Halloween dance…?” Thomas asked curiously, head tilted, “You guys do that kind of thing here?” He added on in question, causing the three Gladers to squint their eyes at the boy in disbelief, their lips parted – Thomas instantly blinked, beginning to laugh nervously, waving his hands all over the place, “It’s just that I’ve never been into the whole annual dances and stuff!” He informed, “I usually study on those days – plus, no one ever asks me to them, with the exception of Teresa at times, but she knows I have to study, so---“

“Nerd alert, much?” Minho interrupted with a smirk – Chuck blinked curiously at the mention of Teresa, but Thomas paid no attention as he frowned at Minho.

“Like you can talk!” The shorter boy snapped, “Unlike you, I need to work hard to get good grades.”

“Must suck to be you, then,” Minho replied offhandedly.

Typical.

“C’mon, you guys, that’s not fair!” Thomas groaned, ignoring Minho, and turning back around to face Newt, “I don’t want to ask Brenda out as a penalty! It not fair on her, and it’ll just make me feel like a jackass!”

After a few seconds of thinking, holding his chin, Newt let out a defeated sigh.

“Alright, Tommy, alright – you have a point,” The blond replied, “Plus, to be honest, I kinda think she’s out of your league.” He added on.

Minho winced in amusement at the comment as he covered his mouth, beginning to laugh uncontrollably. Thomas stared at Newt, eyes half lidded to get his unamused facial expression across – Newt merely looked proud of himself as he smirked. Of course, Chuck let out a few barks of laughter as he clutched his stomach.

“Anyway, that aside, can we give him the thing now?” Minho asked, gesturing to wipe a tear of laughter away from his eye.

“Go ahead, I’m not stoppin’ you,” Newt replied with a smile – Minho rolled his eyes at the reply, opening the black fridge which seemed to tower over him (which was saying something in Thomas’ opinion).

The fridge had over five layers, most of which were filled up with the Gladers’ shopping outside of school – there were drinks, pre-made desserts, microwavable food sets, and much more. Thomas was staring bug-eyed, wondering if sharing or stealing was ever an issue.

“Don’t worry, Tommy,” Newt began with a smile, as though he had seen right through Thomas, “Us Gladers have each other’s complete trust, so stealing is never an issue. Everyone marks what’s theirs!”

“And if some Slinthead eats another person’s food without permission, they’re made to pay back the person with exact amount they ate,” Minho added on, “Believe me, I’ve been on the receiving end with Chuck far too many times,” He informed, looking over at the 10th grader with a smirk (who laughed sheepishly as he gave a meek ‘sorry’, scratching the back of his head).

“So, Tommy, go and sit down while we make your present!” Newt ordered brightly, to which Thomas nodded nervously – as the Greenie was holding his hands to calm down, making his way to the end of the table, right next to the entrance of the kitchen, Thomas noticed there was a breakfast bar which separated the kitchen from the dorm cafeteria. As he took a seat, Thomas could see Minho looking around in the fridge, whilst Newt seemed to be working the microwave.

Chuck was sat next to the Greenie with a smile, unable to stop his fidgeting.

“Y’know, I’m so glad you’re here, Thomas!” The plump boy brought up spontaneously, causing Thomas to look over at him for a few moments, completely taken aback as he stared at him, “It’s only been two days, and yet so much has happened since you’ve come here! Minho and Newt are being nicer to me, which made me remember my first day at Maze Runner! When those two held the welcoming party for me, I was so happy!” He brought up, “But since then, they were kinda distant, until today! Normally they’d never tell me anything, but for some reason, today they did!” Chuck added on, which Thomas couldn’t help but smile at, “You have an effect on people!”

“Hey, what are you Shanks talkin’ about over there?” Minho asked, raising his body to look past the breakfast bar and at Thomas. The Greenie simply shook his head with a smile, replying with small ‘nothing’, causing Minho to peer at him suspiciously before shrugging, going back to rummaging through the fridge.

Thomas then looked over at Chuck, the smile not leaving his face.

“I’ll always be here, Chuck, I promise you that.”

“You sound just like my parents,” Chuck replied with a laugh, “…I really miss ‘em…” He muttered after a few seconds, “And I’m pretty sure they miss me.” The boy added on.

Thomas’ eyes flickered as he looked over at Chuck, and couldn’t help but share a deep empathy with the 10th grader.

“Yeah, ‘course they miss you,” Thomas managed to reply warmly, placing a hand on Chuck’s shoulder in reassurance – the reminder of his mother made the Greenie long to speak to her again, a tightness in his chest - to hear her voice, see her face, tell her about the many friends he had already made, his position on the first string of the running team – of course, it was wishful thinking, and Thomas knew that. He knew that she was busy.

The days of work his mother had skipped due to both his suspension and expulsion meant that she would be working as hard as ever at the current moment – he didn’t want to intrude and waste her time with meaningless news. Not until he knew things were okay again. He’d wait until his mother contacted him.

“Thomas?” Chuck asked curiously – the taller boy instantly whipped his head around to look down at Chuck in surprise.

“Oh—uh, yeah?” He asked in a stutter – Chuck’s face seemed to have scrunched up in worry.

“I was askin’ about you,” Chuck replied, “What about your parents?” He repeated, causing Thomas’ lips to part at the question. The plump boy then rolled his eyes, “I was saying how I miss my mom’s homemade cookies, and my dad’s fruit,” He informed, “They both run an organic store, as well as bakery - we’re super successful, so if it wasn’t for them and the money, there’s no way I would’ve been able to attend here.”

“Oh, right…” Thomas nodded, “Well, uh, my dad isn’t really around that much, and rarely comes home,” He began in reply, scratching the back of his neck, “He’s always busy, since he works as a professor in some scientific research facility back home - so it’s mainly me and my mom.” He added on, causing Chuck to nod as he let out an impressed whistle, “My mom works as a waitress, so…” Thomas’ sentence trailed off as he shrugged.

“That’s cool,” Chuck replied casually, “So many kids at this school come from all over the country – it’s kinda intimidating, really.” He added on with a laugh.

“Different backgrounds, stories, futures,” Thomas listed, “Real sentimental.” He added on with a grin.

“You said it,” Newt interjected as he took a seat in front of the two boys with a smile, chin resting on top of his interlaced fingers.

"What about your parents, Newt?" Chuck asked curiously, "Don't you miss 'em?"

"Well, of course I bloody miss them," Newt replied with a laugh, as though he was just asked the stupidest question ever, "But sometimes you've gotta grit your teeth and bear with it," He added on - Thomas stared worriedly at the blond, who had a melancholic look on his face while staring down at the table.

"Newt?" Thomas asked steadily - the blond instantly brought his head up to smile at the Greenie.

"It's nothing," He reassured, "I was just remembering my dog back home." The boy added on in explanation. Thomas' eyes widened at the mention of Newt having a dog. He'd never expected it - it showed just how clueless he was when it came to the Gladers, and all of the little things about them.

"So, your parents..?" Thomas enquired meekly - Newt merely laughed at the boy's mannerisms.

"Mum works for a successful fashion magazine, and dad owns a successful corporation for farming, so they're super busy, too - me and Lizzy are sure as hell lucky if we ever receive a bloody phone call from them...but such is life for us Gladers." The blond replied casually - Thomas gaped at the taller boy, but quickly erased the expression - yet another reason why he wanted to make everything okay for Newt again.

"…This school really is for the successful and smart only, isn't it?" Thomas asked gravely after a few seconds, letting out a sigh.

"Of course," Newt replied with a smile, “But no pressure, Tommy. I mean, me and my family moved to this country from Britain, before the beginning of my freshman year - it sure was hard adjusting, lemme tell you!” He added on.

"I can imagine..." Thomas replied - Chuck simply nodded in understanding.

"Right then! That's enough reminiscing about the past! Let's pick our asses up!" Newt beamed with a clap, grinning. Thomas could only look at the boy in worry, but forced a smile, nodding, "Hey, Minho, you not done yet?" The blond asked, turning his head around to face the taller boy.

"It's done," Minho replied with a sigh of relief, stopping the microwave with a small 'ping!' which resounded throughout the cafeteria.

When Minho had come out of the kitchen, a plate in hand, what Thomas saw was both metaphorically and literally the sweetest thing he had ever laid eyes upon - like Minho had told him, it wasn't extravagant, but the Greenie didn't care - just the sentiment was enough - his face was flushed a deep shade of red, eyes sparkling at the dessert resting on the plate. Minho seemed to notice, and couldn't help but grin as he held up a glistening silver fork.

"I know I kinda said it before, but I'll say it outright - _welcome to Maze Runner, Shank._ " The Keeper said, sliding the plate of apple pie in front of the shorter boy, placing the fork on the side.

The medium-sized apple pie was practically sparkling under the moonlight, as though the grains of sugar atop of it were from crushed diamonds, or silver glitter - one could see the steam arising from the pastry, like it was dancing in excitement. And Thomas couldn't even begin to describe the smell - it was utter bliss.

"Make a wish, make a wish!" Chuck urged Thomas with a beam, snapping the boy out of his trance.

"That only applies for birthdays, ya' bloody Slinthead!" Newt informed with a bark of laughter as he clutched his stomach, which resulted in Chuck following suite. Minho was now sat by Newt's side and in front of Thomas and Chuck, and Thomas wasn't going to lie, the guy seemed relatively tired. The Greenie looked between the three boys with a genuine smile, not knowing what else to do with himself.

"Thanks, guys, honestly…" He finally said, the wafting smell of green apples filling the dorm cafeteria – Thomas then blinked in realisation, looking at Minho and Newt, “Wait a sec, is this the reason why you two were being so dodgy back in the science lab?” He asked, causing Newt and Minho to grin at him cheekily.

“Whatever gave you that idea? It’s not like we were planning it during running practise this morning, then planned it out in the science lab, and went to the bakery in the city when we finished after school practise.” Newt replied, arms folded as he smirked.

"Wow Greenie, nothin' gets past you, huh? I can tell why Jorge let you in through a scholarship." Minho added on with a snigger.

Thomas couldn't help but smile at the two boys, shaking his head as he lifted the fork up.

After a while of staring down at the pie, he looked up at the three boys yet again.

"It's not fair on you guys to watch me eat this." He began in worry.

"Which is exactly why you're gonna do it." Newt replied instantaneously - his tone was somewhat stern, but Thomas knew it wasn't hostile.

"I want to share--"

"Slim it  _and have the first bite, Greenie,_ " Minho interrupted with a roll of his eyes - he then smiled at the boy, "We can come to some agreement after you've had the first bite."

"For my party, we had enough pies for myself and these two Shanks, but the baker who makes these pies has become really popular," Chuck informed, "This was the last one left, right?" He asked, looking over at Newt, who nodded.

"But we have a lot of snacks for the movies," The blond replied, before sending a sharp look in Thomas' direction, "So hurry up and eat, Greenie!"

"Fine, but you guys are helping me finish this," Thomas said in a mutter, "No way in hell I can finish it all with the dinner we had." He added on.

"Good that," Minho replied with a nod, "Now eat." He ordered.

Thomas obliged, delicately cutting some of the pastry off, revealing the smell of green apples and cinnamon even more clearly - as he had the first bite, he saw the three boys simply smiling at him. Yup, like he thought.

"Delicious." Thomas said in shock, eyes sparkling yet again.

"And now, don't mind if I do!"

Thomas blinked in shock to see Minho leaning over the table, taking the fork out of his hands - the taller boy then sat back down, pulling the plate closer towards himself, cutting off a bit with the fork, bringing it up to his lips, and eating it.

Minho grinned over at Newt, who stared at him with squinted eyes.

"It's real good," The Keeper said in a slight muffle. Chuck had begun to laugh as Thomas simply stared, lips parted, at the sight of Minho still holding the fork in his mouth.

" _....You do realise that you've just put Tommy's pathogens in your mouth, right?_ " Newt informed cautiously.

" ** _Oh, shit!_** Does that mean I'll get infected with his infamous ugly shanky girl look?!" The Keeper asked instantly, an undoubted sarcastic urgency in his tone – as he was pretending to choke, the boy abruptly took the fork out of his mouth and threw it at Chuck – the plump boy caught it unbelievably well, considering the fact that Minho's muscles must have a strong throwing speed at such a short distance. Thomas this time started at Chuck, who was smiling proudly.

"Time for me to have some - pass it over," the 10th grader ordered, causing Minho to slide it over with a smirk. Chuck then followed suite with cutting a piece off of the pie and eating it as Newt stood up with a sigh, wanting to get his own fork.

"Ah, Newt, get me one, too, please!" The Greenie quickly said.

* * *

"So I forgot to mention this, but our dorm room name is being changed.” Newt informed.

“Wh—seriously?!” Minho asked in shock.

Thomas blinked curiously at the newfound information, and couldn't help but lean forward and turn his head to look over at Newt.

The four Gladers were sat on the top of Minho's bunk sideways, as the only sources of light within the room were from the blue fairy lights, as well as Chuck's laptop screen. With multiple, plump cushions placed against the wall they were leaning against, Chuck was sat on the left side of Thomas, as Minho was sat on Thomas' right (there was also a stack of DVDs next to Minho). Newt sat on Chuck's left, and navy blue covers were placed over the boys' crossed legs - as Chuck's laptop was in the centre of the four boys, there were a variety of sweets (as well as ready-made popcorn) spread out atop the covers. It was the ultimate form of convenience, Thomas couldn't help but think.

“Yeah, Principal Jorge covered the science lesson today and told me." Newt replied - Minho then rolled his eyes, as he too was leaning forward to look at Newt, placing his hand on Thomas' chest, pushing him back to lean against the pillows.

Thomas simply pouted at the gesture, while Chuck was subtly laughing behind his hand.

“So what are we called now?” Minho asked.

“ ** _Room A2578_**.” Newt replied.

A silence was present for a few seconds.

“ _Woah…_ ”

“No, it’s not really something to go _‘woah!’_ over…” Newt replied with squinted eyes, mimicking Minho.

“Yeah, but…doesn’t it sound like we’re more complete now?” The older boy asked casually, waving his hand around. Thomas cocked an eyebrow as he turned his head to look at Minho. He was kinda strange at times.

“...Well, I guess? Although it is a mouthful…” Newt replied with a laugh.

"Oh yeah!" Chuck beamed, causing the three boys to look at him curiously.

"What is it, Chuck?" Thomas asked.

"I've been meanin' to ask, but why didn't we do this whole welcoming party thing for Thomas yesterday?" The plump boy brought up, looking over curiously at Newt. The blond couldn't help but laugh.

“Well, Tommy here had to get acquainted with the Gladers yesterday night, right? Plus there was the whole defiance of the curfew thing, and he was, quote, ' _tired_ '…" He replied, gesturing bunny ears above his head, causing Thomas' face to flush, and Minho to snigger, "Today just works better, does it not?" He asked, causing Chuck to nod, smiling, "So with that being said, what d’you wanna watch, Tommy?” Newt asked.

“Wait, it’s up to me?” The boy asked with a blink, pointing at himself – after seeing all three of his roommates roll their eyes at him, Thomas gave a sheepish laugh, scratching the back of his head, “Then, I guess…any kind of movie?” He offered steadily.

“Genre?” Newt asked curiously.

“Language preference?” Minho added on monotonously.

“Any favourites?” Chuck followed passionately.

“How about…a horror?” Thomas inquired with a bright smile.

“Minho,” Newt said with a nod, looking over at the taller boy.

“I’m on it,” The Keeper replied, beginning to look through the multiple DVDs.

Thomas let out a sigh of relaxation – if only this moment would last forever, he couldn’t help but clichély think.

* * *

The last time Thomas had gotten himself off was on Saturday, half an hour before he was to leave his home, and head to the train station.

His mother had assured him that she would be fine by herself, and that he should finish his packing – as she drove away with his furniture to drop off at the delivery office, it obviously meant no one was at home. Thomas had finished his packing, the luggage lying in the hallway entrance, so he had time to kill.

Of course, being 16 years old and having no real control over your hormones proved to be a real challenge for Thomas – ever since that Saturday, he hadn’t gotten himself off, meaning that it was now three days since he had gotten himself off, meaning that it was a big problem for his sexual frustration, and that he just had to get himself off.

As Thomas awoke on that Tuesday morning, the Greenie sat up hazily, heart beating fast like a jack hammer as he was looking around while scratching his stomach lightly – the sight of the sky was practically the same as yesterday, orange and blue merged together, and the boy was thankful to see that Gally wasn’t staring down at him again. The Greenie then kicked his covers off, checking his phone for the time – 5:35am. Wonderful. Teresa hadn’t texted him since their call yesterday, either.

Thomas looked over at the two bins within the room to see that they were filled to the top – just the memory of how much himself, Newt, Chuck, and Minho ate yesterday made him want to throw up on the spot. This was undoubtedly far worse than a hangover (which he had never experienced, by the way). Luckily, with the minimal amount of energy the four boys had left after watching over five horror movies, before fully passing out on their respective bunks, they cleaned up – all of the DVDs seemed to belong to Newt, as they were placed in his wardrobe yesterday by a trembling, fearful Chuck.

Speaking of Newt, Thomas looked up at the boy’s bunk to see he wasn’t there.

‘ _Maybe he’s in the bathroom again…_ ’

Thomas then blinked in recognition, slowly bringing his eyes to look down – the boy now knew that he was officially awake, unable to go back to sleep (even though he’d complain about wanting to in an hour or so) – as his face flushed a deep crimson, Thomas tried to remember any dreams he might have had. His boxers were beginning to grow tighter the more he sat there thinking about it, and his tracksuit was beckoning to be taken off.

‘ _Think of something else, think of something else!_ ’ He thought to himself desperately, biting his lip, ‘ _Dead cats, dead puppies, running, anything! Oh, c’mon! This timing honestly couldn’t be worse!_ ’

To no avail, the Greenie’s frustration grew even more, and the bulge which had formed was utterly embarrassing in his opinion – of course, it only made Thomas want to see what was underneath his boxers, even though he knew exactly what his dick looked like – after all, he had seen it a million times before.

The uniforms which had to be worn back at WICKED made it convenient to hide stuff like boners, and Thomas hated the fact that the uniforms were the only upside to the place.

Looking over at Chuck cautiously, mentally making sure the boy was utterly, 100% asleep, the Greenie stood up with a prolonged stretch, his back facing the plump boy. As Thomas travelled over to his wardrobe to gather his things, opening it as quietly as possible, he quickly grabbed his showering supplies and a towel, holding them low to cover his crotch.

When the boy practically ran into the bathroom, he let out the biggest sigh of relief to see that no one was occupying any of the showers or sinks - Newt must have woken up and gone with Minho half an hour ago.

Abruptly making his way around the isolated space, hanging his towel up, hanging his hairdryer up by the sink, and putting his showering supplies in the compartments, Thomas quickly stripped his clothes off, placing them just outside of the shower stall, closing the curtain.

As he twisted the shower on, the boy quickly winced from the spraying, lukewarm water, instantly backing up against the corner. After a few seconds of composing himself, Thomas peeked behind the curtain one more time, just to make sure no one was there, keeping well away from the water for now – well, even if someone were to walk in at this point, they would merely think the boy was taking a shower, and Thomas sure as hell wouldn’t stop jacking off – plus, it wasn’t like that person would push the curtain aside, and join him.

Such a thought made the boy’s heartbeat speed up.

Thomas bit his lip lightly, and the Greenie couldn’t help but trail his right hand lower and lower as he leaned against the corner of the shower, his hand gliding softly against the skin of his pelvis – the boy shivered slightly at the three-day-foreign sensation, letting out a shaky breath, eyes closed.

He didn’t know which girl to imagine today; not Teresa, no way in hell – she was too pure for him. Plus, he felt guilty every time he had imagined her in such a state – then again, Thomas thought the guilt was his punishment for being best friends with a beautiful girl.

‘ _Brenda?_ ’ He wondered, licking his lips slowly.

Yeah, she’d work. He could work with that – he didn’t really know her that well, so the guilt would be minimal – plus, it would save him the trouble of making a girl up.

So the boy wasted no time in touching himself, opening his eyes in a daze to look down at his throbbing erection – the moment his palm touched his dick, Thomas sucked in a sharp breath, wincing – shit, he was really feeling it today.

The sudden sensations which coursed throughout his body made him twitch repeatedly, and feeling his face significantly heating up, Thomas noticed his dick instantly begin to leak pre-cum – as he wrapped his right hand around his dick, the Greenie extended his thumb out to repeatedly rub against the slick tip - his shaft was warm, and Thomas couldn’t help but let an involuntary moan escape from his mouth - he was too into it to keep quiet, or worry about if anyone had heard him.

Biting down on his lip, panting silently, the boy found himself getting even harder upon seeing his pre-cum seeping out uncontrollably, trailing down his shaft, and going over and between his fingers.

“ _Fuck…_ ” He whispered to himself, stopping his thumb movement, and instead, pressing it lightly against his index finger – with his senses heightened, he thought of Brenda, and moved.

He thought of her pushing the shower curtain to the side, getting on her knees, and pleasuring him with her mouth – granted, it was a generic fantasy, but it was all Thomas had in the spur of the moment, so he went with it. He thought of the sensations, and how saliva would messily mix with his pre-cum, all movements slick, and how he’d be helplessly stood there, muttering ‘fuck’ under his breath once every fifteen seconds. He thought of her and how she would tease him in the places she (somehow) knew he felt it the most, biting and sucking at his inner thigh lightly, marking it a deep purple, and how she’d persistently keep sucking him off, even after he came. He shivered at the thought.

While Thomas moved his hand up and down, dick sliding in and out of the gap he had created with his index finger and thumb, he let out a few moans at a time, feeling sweat beginning to form on his neck – the feeling of the trails of pre-cum stretching between his fingers made him feel an indescribable ecstasy, and he couldn’t help but slide lower and lower against the shower wall, until he was sat on the floor, legs spread apart as he stared down at his erection hazily.

‘ _No better way to start the day…_ ’ He couldn’t help but think, beginning to thrust into the gap, then slide his hand up and down, and so on.

After a few minutes of persistent thrusts and strokes, Thomas found himself unable to keep his moans in any longer, leaning his head back, attempting to speed his strokes up – he truly wondered what it felt like to have another person pleasure him this way – in fact, he was curious as to how other guys got themselves off.

Minho would undoubtedly have a good time, Thomas couldn’t help but think – the Greenie just knew the guy would get all worked up if he saw himself in the mirror. The way his muscles bulged out, and you could see a few of his veins, the way his shirt would stick to his chest, slick sweat drenching his body.

Thomas couldn’t help but roll his eyes at such a thought, irritated at the fact that Minho came to mind while he was so occupied.

As the Greenie closed his eyes, bit down on his lip yet again, his panting had become even harder, and he could feel he was about to cum.

After a few minutes, with his orgasm overtaking his senses, Thomas suddenly leaned forward as his lips parted, a prolonged moan slipping out – the echo of his voice made his ears turn red, and with his hand wavering for a few seconds as he tried to achieve the perfect speed to finish off, the boy’s legs began to twitch, resulting in his cum to shoot out all over the floor in three spurts, before seeping out, leaking all over his hand slowly.

With his eyes heavy as he panted, the boy got on all fours after a minute, crawling under the running shower, proceeding to sit there as he stared down at his hand.

‘ _Man, I wanna sleep…_ ’


	6. Beetle Hunting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :*・°☆(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉHELLO THERE DEAR READERS!*:･ﾟ✧
> 
> [Insert ‘it’s been 84 years’ gif here]
> 
> WELL, I FINALLY MANAGED TO TYPE THIS CHAPTER UP AFTER HAVING A RATHER SEVERE WRITERS BLOCK FOR ALL MY FICS IN GENERAL?? LIKE, AT MOST, ALL I'VE WRITTEN IS ONESHOTS. BUT I'VE REALLY MISSED WRITING TMR, AND THE MOVIES HAVE INSPIRED ME TO KEEP THIS GOING, AS WELL AS THE BOOKS, ALL OVER AGAIN!!  
> SO PLEASE ENJOY THIS CHAPTER, DEAR READERS!!! <3

Thomas took it back – he’d felt absolutely guilty when he saw Brenda’s face that morning.  
  
Despite the multiple thoughts racing around in his head after hazily jacking himself off (due to a moment of spontaneous lust), about how much he just wanted to quit the day and tuck himself back into bed, not caring about the world until it cared for him, Thomas knew that he just couldn’t.  
  
Not after jolting in shock at the sounds of the other runners and Gladers bursting into the bathroom – the calm, rather tranquil atmosphere was ruined in Thomas’ opinion as he ran his slippery, shampoo-covered hands through his wet, brown hair. Whilst his head was turned to face the shower curtain, discomfort was practically enveloping him as his brown eyes wavered; the silhouettes of the boys walking back and forth were now present.  
  
As the Gladers all began entering the shower stalls and taking up the sinks, Thomas noticed the multiple conversations going on, which were far too loud for him – after hearing one particular guy’s voice (who Thomas managed to identify as Ben’s), the Greenie realised that it was almost time for the morning practises, which explained the Gladers’ sudden appearances – Thomas was too busy rubbing himself up to even notice, let alone remember such an obvious fact. He was pretty out of it after climaxing, so could anyone really blame him? Well, not that they would have anything to blame him for.  
  
After quickly finishing his shower off, the boy stared at the shower curtain hesitantly for a few minutes in worry – somehow, it felt as though all of the Gladers knew what he had done, and they would instantly address it; that they were just waiting for him to emerge, so that they could laugh at him, or mercilessly tease him about it.  
  
With a quick, irritated shake of his head, Thomas gathered the courage to push the shower curtain to the side after wrapping his towel around his waist. It caused the Greenie to remember how the boys back at WICKED all had separate showers.  
  
_“Oh, look who it is!”_  
  
_“Hey everyone, it’s our Greenie!”_  
  
_“Mornin’, Thomas!”_  
  
After looking between the few boys who had turned their heads around to face him, Thomas couldn’t help but smile nervously, giving a small nod of his head. Frypan was stood there with a grin, his huge arms holding all of his showering supplies, whilst Clint and Jeff conversed with one another as they occupied the sink by brushing their teeth – the two boys were also smiling over at Thomas.  
  
“Morning,” The Greenie greeted in reply, quickly turning himself around to grab his showering supplies, and pick his dirty clothes up from off of the floor.  
  
“You were really quick with your shower, man,” Frypan commented with an impressed whistle, looking down at Thomas, “Everything alright?” He enquired, tilting his head. Clint and Jeff hadn’t seemed to notice this fact, but sent the shorter boy a questioning look all the same.  
  
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Thomas replied with a nervous laugh, “Couldn't really sleep, so I came in here around twenty minutes ago…it’s quiet, and the water’s warm…you know, therapeutic and all that,” He attempted to explain, causing Frypan to nod his head repeatedly with a smile, understanding what the Greenie was trying to say.  
  
“Still, wakin’ up at 5:30 just for _that?_ ” Jeff enquired, shaking his head in disbelief.  
  
“I could never do it,” Clint added on with a laugh, the two medical students turning themselves back around, continuing their conversation.  
  
"…What about you guys, then?" Thomas asked with a cocked eyebrow, looking from Frypan to the two medical students.  
  
Jeff hadn't bothered to turn himself back around as he spoke, his mouth half full with his toothbrush.  
  
"We 'av an importan’ shuckin' exam soon." The boy replied matter of factly.  
  
"Need 'ta revise as much klunk as we can," Clint added on, following Jeff's gesture, "Can't afford 'ta waste it by sleepin' on our shuck backsides."  
  
Thomas couldn’t help but scratch the back of his head whilst looking down at his feet – he didn’t really have anything he could reply with to that, and it wasn’t like he could tell them the _real_ reason he had woken up so early.

There was a pang of guilt in the pit of Thomas’ stomach - he felt kind of bad that the students at this place tried so hard, whilst he wanted a break from his new running position for a week - he hadn't even ran in the club yet, and he _already_ wanted a break.  
  
“Hey, man,” Frypan began, placing a reassuring hand on Thomas’ shoulder – the boy couldn’t help but jump at the contact, “Don’t worry about it – ‘bout Gally, I mean,” The teenage chef said with a smile, “Minho told you Gally’s been tryin’ to get a place on the runnin’ team for a while now, right?” He enquired, causing Thomas to nod a few times, “I doubt it’s anything personal against you…the guy's just got a few problems, y’know?”  
  
“Yeah…I get you, Fry…” Thomas replied, quite unsure himself.  
  
"Must say, quite the impression you made on Keeper of The Runners." Frypan commented in reply, a slight grin playing on his lips – Thomas noticed the guys eyes were gleaming in amusement.  
  
"I think it was thanks to you for puttin' in a good word for me," The Greenie informed with a weak laugh, now holding his towel up with one hand to avoid it from falling, as the other held his showering supplies and clothes. Frypan merely laughed to himself and shook his head in reply, "So, how come you're up so early?" Thomas continued on in enquiry.  
  
“Plannin' on makin' a French breakfast today," Frypan replied, "Wanna try out a new recipe," He added on, causing Thomas to nod his head in understanding, "You goin’ over to the runnin’ practise now?” The taller boy asked curiously.  
  
“Oh—Uh…”  
  
_“ **The shanky Greenie’s gonna become a Glade Runner.** ”_  
  
Thomas instantly tensed up at the voice which interrupted the conversation, coming from behind one of the shower stalls – many of the Gladers stopped their conversations after hearing the mention of such a thing, turning their heads to face Thomas in shock.  
  
Frypan blinked in surprise, eyes rather wide as he looked from the stall, back to Thomas.  
  
“That true, Thomas?” He asked.  
  
“Oh—uh..well…” Thomas laughed nervously yet again, before groaning and turning his body around to face the particular shower stall, “ _Alby, man, did you really have to!?_ ” He asked.  
  
“ _Hey, no pressure, Greenie,_ ” Came Alby’s voice in reply, a clear amusement laced in it, “ _We all know you can do it – right, Shanks?_ ” He asked, voice booming.  
  
“Definitely!” Frypan cheered, the other Gladers following suite – a few of the runners then slapped Thomas on the back playfully with cheeky grins as they walked out of the bathroom, heading towards the running track.  
  
“I don’t start until next week,” Thomas replied with a nervous laugh, wincing at the runners’ gestures as he turned to Frypan, rubbing his back which he now knew was sporting a red mark, “So I'm just mentally preparing for it, and catching up on the work I've missed throughout this year."  
  
"I doubt you've missed a lot," Frypan replied with a short shrug, "But honestly man, you're amazin' - got no clue how you do it." He said with a laugh, patting the boy's shoulder as he entered the shower stall.  
  
"Wha--" Thomas instantly cut himself off, before looking down at his feet for a few minutes - upon hearing Frypan twist the shower on, the boy looked around in bewilderment, rolling his eyes, "Honestly, I'm not that great..." He muttered quietly to himself, now making his way towards one of the free sinks, and putting his things down on the surface of it - the sinks were relatively wide, after all (being pure white in colour, as well as glossy).  
  
Inspecting himself in the mirror was kind of weird to Thomas - to the Greenie, one was looking at themselves, but not quite at the same time - truthfully, it made Thomas uneasy to some extent.

He didn't like not recognising who he was through his reflection.  
  
Shaking his head yet again, attempting to take his mind off of such a thought, the boy plugged his hairdryer in and turned it on, warm air hitting him in the face all at once, eyes repeatedly blinking, and skin flapping about.  
  
Running the hard brush through his damp hair, Thomas could feel the droplets of water making direct contact with his scalp all over again - he couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief, eyes now closed as he simultaneously worked the hairbrush and hairdryer.

A while had passed until the Greenie turned the noisy contraption off, unplugging it from the mains – after shaking his head, Thomas ran a hand through his (now) dry, soft hair, looking up and into the mirror.

He then blinked in shock and almost jumped upon seeing Alby stood behind him with a smirk, hands on his hips as he had clearly just gotten out of the shower, water droplets slick against his toned body.

“Meet me behind the Glade when you’ve gotten changed, Greenie.” The student government president said with a head gesture, striding out of the bathroom, and not giving Thomas the chance to reply – a few of the Gladers had begun to chant simultaneous _‘ooo’_ s of caution, which caught Thomas off guard.

_"What did you do, Thomas?”_

_"It’s only your second day here, man.”_

_“Don’t get on Alby’s bad side after you’ve just saved his ass.”_

“But I didn’t do anything!” Thomas replied in an attempted justification, scrambling around to gather his things, and practically sprinting out of the bathroom.

* * *

The Gladers’ booming voices were still audible from a mile away to Thomas, and as the Greenie quickly entered his dorm room, throwing his dirty laundry in the basket, he made sure to stay as quiet as possible, for the sake of Chuck’s, _oh so precious_ ‘beauty sleep’.

Delicately opening his wardrobe and grabbing new boxers, Thomas quickly slipped them on, hopping on one leg as he undid his towel from around his waist. As he hung his towel up, the boy then took a step into the wardrobe, peering at his clothes through squinted eyes – with a sigh, the Greenie then stripped his navy-coloured hoodie from its hanger, as well as his black jeans. Putting the two pieces of clothing on, the boy then grabbed a pair of socks, and crouched down as he tied his shoelaces.

After jumping up and closing his wardrobe, the boy looked around curiously for his school bag – as he found it beneath his bunk, the Greenie then unplugged his phone from its charger, and dumped it in his shoulder bag - Thomas then discreetly exited the room, and made his way down the two flights of stairs, exiting the glade.

There was hardly any fog present this morning, but a few of the girls from Glade B were hanging around on the benches, speaking casually to some of the guys.

Thomas paid no mind to them as he walked around the left side of Glade A, reminded of the fact that, only two days ago, this is where himself, Minho, and Alby were defying the curfew. Scratching his head sheepishly, the boy made a right turn to walk behind the Glade, noticing the back doors linking to the dorm kitchens, as well as the dumpster bins.

Alby was leaning against the wall, his left leg propped up against it – as he wore pure black boots, the guy looked as though he was doing extreme farm work, despite having a shower not even ten minutes ago. Thomas stared at Alby for a few seconds, before making his way – it wasn’t until the Greenie saw that the student government president was holding what seemed like a butchers knife from the kitchen (which Thomas learned was dubbed as Frypan’s property), as well as a rusty hammer.

Before Thomas could question why Alby held such a thing, about to ask if he was going to get staked at the heart, Alby turned his head to face the boy, raising his eyebrows.

“Took your time, Shank.” Alby began, leaning off of the wall – now with his arms crossed, Alby seemed a lot more intimidating to Thomas than he once thought. The younger boy shifted uncomfortably, adjusting his bag strap for what seemed like the hundredth time in the span of a day and a bit.

“Yeah, uh, sorry about that…” Thomas began, scratching his head awkwardly and not knowing what to do with himself.

“Better be on time if you wanna survive, Shuckface.” Alby retorted, voice low, and his scowling face still apparent.

Thomas cocked his eyebrow at the student government president saying such a thing.

“What do you mean?” The Greenie enquired, a sudden curiosity overtaking him.

“Look, Thomas,” Alby began with a sigh, voice softening as he placed an arm around the Greenie’s shoulder, “Me and Minho appreciate what you did for us, really – “ He paused momentarily, before continuing on, “But I don’t want a repeat of what you did after the curfew – not for me, _not for no one_ …” He muttered, causing Thomas to blink at him in surprise, “Y’ understand, Greenbean? Y’ gotta stick to the rules now, since it’s how we’ve all managed to survive, n’ not get our shuck faces torn off by the Grievers and teachers.”

“But---“

“If a Glader decides to defy the curfew, then that’s _their_ problem – but I _don’t_ expect that Glader to go ‘round, puttin’ the other Gladers at risk ‘cause they did what they did.”

“…But we both helped you…me and Minho, I mean…” Thomas looked down at the floor as he trailed off, before maintaining his eye contact with the student government president yet again, “There’ve still been cases of the guys helping each other out after the curfew, right?”

“What happened to me was…” Alby cut himself off with a grunt, shaking his head, “Well, whatever – _look,_ they’re already reinforcin’ stricter security ‘round the place, and y’ _know_ how merciless they are with punishment, so I doubt any of the Gladers are in any rush to defy it, or help out those who _do_ defy it. Whatever happened in the past is in the past _. If you ain’t scared of ‘em now, you ain’t human._ ” Alby informed, dark undertones clearly visible to Thomas.

With his eyebrows knitted together, Thomas gave a small, slow nod of his head.

“Alright, Alby…I hear you.” He replied.

“Good that,” The taller boy said with a raise of his eyebrows, “Now,” He began, grabbing Thomas’ hand – the Greenie stared up at the Senior, stupefied, “Y’ gotta carve your name, too. _New life begins now_ – _look,_ _right **‘ere**._ ”

Thomas turned his head to his right, and upon processing the sight, the boy blinked in surprise – he hadn’t noticed it when himself and Minho were in a rush to save Alby’s skin, but seeing it now made Thomas feel as though he truly belonged at Maze Runner.

The names of all the Glade A boys throughout the generations were carved into the wall – of course, Alby’s name was at the very center of their generation, and Thomas took a step closer to inspect the sight. Crouching down ever so slightly, the Greenie hadn’t really registered he was given the hammer and the butchers knife.

“… _’Chuck’…‘Newt’…‘Minho’...'Zart’...Frypan’..._ ” Thomas listed off quietly to himself, before he cocked his eyebrow at a particular name, which seemed to be scratched out---or rather, crossed off on purpose.

The boy blinked, rather taken aback, before noticing even more names scratched out in the same manner.

" _..'Adam'...'Frankie'...'Stan'...'Dave'....'Stephen'..._ " He added on, before slowly turning his head back around to face Alby, “...And _’George’..._?” He enquired, “Why are their names crossed off?” 

“Like I said, _merciless punishments_ …call it whatever y' want - self discipline and punctuality for the sake of the future, and all that,” Alby muttered with a frown, arms folded, "Dunno how, but Jackson is usually the one who catches wind and tells us all about who gets expelled 'cause they defied the curfew - the guy's been nicknamed as a bagger 'cause of it. He's in your year, too."

Thomas’ heart tightened at the information – just what in the world was so bad about not being back in the Glade on time? Was it really worth all of this? Crossing out names, expelling the students who had potential, and taking them away from their friends here?

_Alfred..._

_Peter..._

_Jason..._

_Cho..._

_Hank..._

_Justin..._

Just how paranoid was this school about the students tainting their reputation?

For all Thomas knew, this place could be the exact equivalent to a prison – He didn’t like being told what to do, and what time he should be back, after all. WICKED was somewhat the same, but a lot more easygoing when it came to the curfews - It didn’t feel like he was truly free. 

_‘Then again, is anyone?’_

“… _Thomas?_ ”

The Greenie jumped at the address, and looked up at Alby.

“Y’ alright, Shuckface?”

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine…” Thomas replied with a sigh, running a hand through his head, “Jeez, this place is…” He trailed off in an attempt to find the right word, “ _Wild._ ”

“Look, just do what y’ gotta do, and you’ll see that it’s not so bad – we’ve all got each other’s backs, after all.” Alby reassured with a smile, “Now hurry it up, Greenie – _carve your name._ ”

Thomas registered what the older boy had said and ordered, looking down at the tools he currently held in hand. After turning himself back around to face the wall, Thomas stared up at the names silently, eyebrows tilted upwards, as though he was ‘mourning’ for the expelled students – looking down at his feet, then at the names of his generation’s Gladers, Thomas sucked in a breath.

“Here goes nothing…” He muttered to himself, raising his right hand which held the butchers knife to the wall – with determination overtaking him, the boy then raised his left hand which held the hammer, and tapped on the end of the knife, causing it to shift ever so slightly.

With the first line of his name made, visible as a light scratch, Alby smiled at the sight, walking through the back doors of the Glade and entering the kitchens – the Greenie understood that nothing else needed to be said, so he hadn’t kept his eyes on Alby. Thomas just kept on tapping at the knife with the hammer, focusing on what mattered now.

_His name._

_Carved next to his new friends’ names._

* * *

Thomas didn’t know what it was that compelled him to stay awake and walk in on the morning running practise – luckily, he had managed to remember the route, and it wasn’t all that hard to miss, given the fact that the running track, as well as the field, were both unbelievably spacious.

After he had finished carving his name into Glade A’s back wall, Thomas was suddenly filled with motivation - not to run, but rather, to try and appreciate his new friends as much as he could. Most of them had been at this school a hell of a lot longer than him, after all, and seemed to get on just fine – if they could, then why couldn’t Thomas? He’d decided he would make the most of the experience.

The shouting of the fellow runners could be heard from a distance, and Thomas felt on slight edge – as though he was about to defy the curfew all over again.

The Greenie snorted at the thought, until he was snapped out of his daze by his phone ringing. With his lips parted, blinking down at his bag in surprise, the boy fished around amongst his many books, abruptly bringing his phone up to his ear, and not having the time to read the number before the ringing cut off.

“Hello…?” Thomas asked, rather unsure of what tone to make use of. His eyes were then drawn towards the sight of Minho.

Of course, there the elder boy was – running as quickly as ever, form immaculate. He seemed to have completed his final lap around the running track, as when he approached Newt (who was stood by the finish line, a timer and clipboard in one hand), the Keeper snatched the drink out of the blond’s other hand, gulping it down violently, and not giving himself a chance to breathe. Thomas could see Newt pat Minho’s back shortly.

_‘Tom? It’s me, Teresa!’_

Even from the distance between them, the Greenie noticed the sweat droplets on Minho’s face, his tanned skin slick with sweat, too – only Minho would wear shorts and tank tops in the middle of autumn.

_‘Tom!’_

Thomas jumped at the snap, and upon processing the voice, he sighed in relief at the sound of his childhood friend, tearing his eyes away from the runner.

“Teresa, hey,” He greeted, turning his body around, “You alright?”

 _‘Yeah, I’m fine!’_ The girl beamed in reply, _‘But you’re not, from the sounds of it! Was just wondering if you’re alright, given our call was cut short yesterday night!’_ She informed, and Thomas could practically visualise her current, beautiful smile.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Thomas replied with a small laugh, “How are things going with the transfer?” He asked quietly.

_‘Mom and Dad have yet to come and collect me from this place – since they’re so busy with their work, they couldn't pick up any of my calls…’_

“…. ** _Shit_** …” Thomas breathed out.

 _‘Yeah…’_ Came Teresa’s reply, _‘And it’s not like I can tell them about what had happened to you – they’d stop me from associating with you, innocent or not...but I gotta get outta here!’_

“…Well, where are you now?” The Greenie asked worriedly, “Can’t you just rent out an apartment for now or something?” He added on.

_‘Tom, I’m not as hard-working as your mother – where on earth would I get the money?’_

“..Your parents?”

_‘…They don’t trust me. They think I’d probably do a runner or something…and anyway, like I said - super busy.’_

“…Parents...” Thomas couldn’t help but sigh out bitterly, “Well, has my Mom said anything to you?”

_‘Of course she did, Tom. But I couldn’t just blindly accept her offer and live with her! It’d look like I was using her!’_

“Don’t be stupid, I’m sure it wouldn’t look like that,” Thomas replied with a laugh, shaking his head, “Here, I’ll tell you what. Pack all your stuff up and go to her – she can provide you with a place to stay, so you don’t need to sneak around to speak to me anymore, and you can apply to this place. May wanna get your parents to drop their work for a few moments and tell them, though, if you're serious about this.”

_‘Yeah, if your principal even accepts my application…’_

“You’re Teresa Agnes from WICKED Private Boarding Academy - I’m sure any principal would gladly accept your application.”

_‘…Seriously, thanks, Tom... I’ll tell her and do that…’_

“Anytime. And yeah, do it now while it’s still early.”

 _‘Oh, by the way,’_ Teresa added on, _‘Before I go, what was it that you couldn’t tell me yesterday night?’_ The girl enquired curiously.

Thomas paused for a few moments, lips parted.

“Oh, uh that,” He said with a sheepish laugh, scratching the back of his head, “Well, I’ve actually made it on the first string of Maze Runner’s running team…”

A silence was present for a few moments as Thomas looked down at his phone – the Greenie cocked his eyebrow – had the signal cut off? The call still seemed to be running.

He then jumped in shock and let out a squeak upon hearing Teresa’s laughter, practically blaring through his phone’s speakers.

“H-Hey, it’s not that funny!” Thomas snapped, face flushing in slight anger.

_‘Oh, good one, Tom! You sure know how to cheer me up!’_

“It’s not a lie, it’s the truth!” Thomas insisted, “Minho’s the captain of the running team! He’s also known at Keeper of The Runners, and he put me on the first string yesterday!” He informed, causing the girl to gradually stop her laughter.

 _‘What? Why?’_ Teresa asked in confusion, _‘Did you suck him off or something?’_

“ ** _No!_** ” Thomas snapped instantaneously.

_‘You’ve only known the guy for, what? Like, a day or two?’_

“Like I said, _I did not suck Minho off!_ ”

 _‘Okay, okay, but we all know you wish it,’_ The girl sang, giggling to herself – Thomas groaned in absolute embarrassment as he face palmed.

“You’re so shameless, y’know that?” Thomas muttered, “ _Look,_ the school has a really strict curfew, and I kind of burst out of the dorms to help Minho and the student government president, Alby, out – it was two days ago,” The Greenie explained, “From what I know, Alby somehow passed out, hitting his head, and a distance away from the dorms - Minho couldn’t contact anyone at the time, so when I saw him carrying the guy, with some security guard not far behind them, I knew I had to do something.” He added on.

 _‘…But security guards are there to help, right?’_ Teresa asked in confusion.

“Not these ones…” Thomas muttered with a slight shudder, “If they find you after the curfew, the school automatically assumes you were up to no good, tainting their reputation – so they expel you…”

_‘Holy shit!’_

“Exactly!”

_‘And you broke the curfew?! Not even on your **first day**!?’_

“…Yeah…”

_‘…Well, Tom, that’s the most rebellious thing I’ve ever heard you do – on par with attempting to hurt Spilker and Paige, anyway.’_

“Why, thank you - I do try,” Thomas replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes with a smile – Teresa’s laughter yet again put the boy at ease, “Just stay safe, yeah? I’m at morning practise right now, seeing how all this running business works….”

 _‘You’ve come so far, Tom – the past you couldn’t give two shits about physical education.’_ Teresa pointed out.

“It’s far more interesting here,” Thomas insisted, “Minho’s gonna teach me all sorts of things – says I’m now his responsibility.”

 _‘I bet.’_ Teresa replied, causing Thomas to squint his eyes at her tone, _‘Well, I’d better bounce and start packing,’_ She informed, causing the Greenie to nod.

“Yeah, let me know how it goes over Skype if you manage to leave tonight,” Thomas replied, “And if you can’t, text me.”

‘ _Yes, **Sir**._ ’

“See you, Teresa.” Thomas said with a smile.

_‘Bye, Tom.’_

After having Teresa end the call, the sounds of nothing but the runners now being heard, Thomas quickly slipped his phone into his back pocket, turning his body back around to face the running track.

The boy blinked in surprise to see Newt staring at him with a slight smile. Thomas’ face instantly flushed, praying that he hadn’t heard a thing regarding where Teresa attends, and how he insisted that he hadn’t sucked Minho off.

Shuffling over awkwardly, Thomas couldn’t help but laugh nervously.

“Morning, Newt.” He greeted, standing by the taller blond boy’s side.

“Mornin’, Tommy,” Newt greeted, patting his back with the hand which held the stopwatch, “You have a good sleep?” He enquired, causing Thomas to nod, “So…what’re you doin’ here?” The British boy added on in question.

“Well…” Thomas trailed off almost instantly, “Alby made me carve my name just now…”

“Oh, I see – so you finally noticed it?” Newt asked.

“Yeah…I mean, Minho hadn’t told me that there was such a thing, so—“

“It’s usually Alby who guides the Greenie on how everything works,” Newt interrupted with a laugh, “We usually call it The Tour, so don’t take it personally – besides, given the circumstances you Shuckfaces were in, I doubt he had the time.”

Thomas gave a nod, staring down at his hands.

“I couldn’t sleep after needing to shower, so Alby made me carve my name, and before I knew it…”

“Here you were.” Newt finished off, looking over at the runners, “We’ve got an upcoming tournament, so everyone’s really into it – especially Brenda,” He addressed, gesturing over to the girl with his head. Thomas instantly turned his head to see the girl doing warm up stretches.

His stomach dropped.

_Thomas took it back – he’d felt absolutely guilty when he saw Brenda’s face that morning.  
_

* * *

Two grievers were currently in the building on the 1st floor of Glade A, fitting the new window in, to replace the one Thomas and Minho had broken.

“So what’s the deal with this upcoming running tournament?”

“Exactly what it sounds like, Tommy.” 

“Some shanks’re going to come here in an attempt to challenge my speed and surpass it – then I’ll prove them all wrong and receive a medal and trophy for it.”

“As expected of Minho!”

As the four Gladers of room A2578 sat within the dorm cafeteria, the Gladers’ chattering resounding throughout the hall, the wafting scent of fresh croissants filled up the air. Thomas and Minho were sat side by side, as Newt and Chuck were opposite the two, and the Greenie couldn’t help but cock an eyebrow at the registered information.

After running practise, the two taller boys proceeded to leave Thomas with the almost impossible task of waking Chuck up as they showered and got changed into their jeans, thin tank tops, and smart sweaters.

“ _Seriously?_ ” Thomas asked, “ _That’s it?_ ”

“Nah, Minho’s just bein’ a bloody fool, and makin’ it sound easy,” Newt replied with a snigger, causing the Keeper to stick his tongue out as he went back to eating his croissant, “A bunch of the public schools from the city will be coming here, and our running teams will all compete against each other through multiple races.” He explained simply.

“Yeah, yeah!” Chuck beamed, “It's all track running, though! So you have the official relay races, the hurdle races, the 100 meter, 200 meter, 300 meter, 400 meter, and finally, the 800 meter!” He informed, as though he had recited it.

“The first string running teams all compete against each other,” Minho added on, “And so do the second strings.”

“So it’ll last a while, I take it?” Thomas enquired, looking over at Minho.

“I make these races last as long as I want them to, Shuckface.” He replied with a prideful smirk. Thomas couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the reply.

“Slim it, Minho,” Newt warned the taller boy, “Last time, you were practically neck to neck with those runners from Beetle Blade.”

“Only ‘cause your shuck strategies and running plans didn’t correspond with my leg work!” Minho retorted.

Thomas’ curiosity peaked at the mention of the public school.

“Beetle Blade?” The Greenie enquired, “They have a strong running team?”

“Not until recently,” Newt replied with a sigh, placing a hand on his cheek, and glancing sideways, “We were informed by one of the supervisors that they’re consistently watching videos of Minho’s running, given the amount of races and tournaments this Shank participates part in. The medals and trophies in the cabinets speak for themselves, after all.”

Thomas looked over at Minho yet again, not surprised by the information, given that he had predicted such a thing – the Keeper now seemed to be occupied with his breakfast, scowling at Newt’s comment. The shorter boy turned his head back around to face the blond.

“So they study him through the multiple videos, in order to know what they’re up against,” Newt carried on, “Think I’ve seen a few of them at the actual tournaments, too – sittin’ in the crowd, not talking to each other or anything…just bloody _watching_ us. They do the same thing when it comes to our other first string runners. They’ve studied all of us and memorised our running techniques.”

“They’re basically like legal spies!” Chuck added on, far too enthusiastically, “They know all about our runners!” He beamed, causing Thomas to nod, grabbing his cup of water and drinking from it.

“Hey, now – that’s not true,” Minho interjected, tone sweet yet sarcastic, “I can think of _one_ first string runner that they have no idea existed.” He informed, glancing over at Thomas with a suggestive smirk.

The Greenie, after looking into Minho’s eyes, then choked and spluttered on the drink, letting it spurt out of his mouth and all over his lap as he coughed violently. Minho backed away slightly from the boy’s hysterics, but Newt chuckled a profuse amount.

“ _My god, you’re not **serious** , are you?!_” Thomas asked, “ _I’m just a beginner! It’s too early for me to take part in official tournaments!_ ”

“Slim it, Shank,” Minho said with a roll of his eyes, “In case you _didn’t_ know, I pick who does what race for the tournaments, whilst our beloved Newton here,” The Keeper glanced over at Newt, who was glaring at the mention of the persistent nickname with folded arms, “Comes up with the strategies that adjust to our running form, as well as the running techniques we use for our training.” He added on, “I’ll make you legit first string material near the end of this upcoming October – the Halloween dance is on the same day of the tournament, too, so think of that as your reward if you don’t fuck up.”

Thomas stared in horror at what the Keeper was saying, before looking over at Newt for some backup on his part – even _if_ Minho was a running prodigy, and Newt was a genius, to Thomas, it seemed scientifically impossible to adjust his body like a first string runner’s in the span of a month and a bit.

Newt had gone back to sniggering at the sight of Thomas’ wet trousers behind his hand once reminded, and upon making eye contact with the Greenie, he couldn’t help but grin.

“Sorry, Tommy, but he has a point.” The blond said with a short shrug.

“The dance is on Halloween day exactly, right?” Chuck asked, resulting in Minho to nod at him, “After that, it’ll be thanksgiving break – ah, I can’t wait!” The plump boy marvelled, clapping excitedly to himself – that was the least of Thomas’ joys at the current moment.

“You have no say in the matter, Greenie,” Minho continued on in finality – Thomas stared in pure worry at him, “You’re aimin’ to become a Glade Runner, right? _Said so yourself._ ”

The question made Thomas pause for a while – now that he thought about it, this _was_ the perfect opportunity to prove that he was capable of other things besides getting expelled, defying curfews, and knowing the answers to a few math problems.

A chance to prove to himself that he could survive without WICKED.

“Uh, Thomas…?” Chuck asked worriedly. The Greenie instantly brought his head to look up at the plump boy, a smile growing on his face.

“What the _fuck_?” Minho asked, “Don’t think I’ve ever seen this ugly shank smile before.” He pointed out with a laugh.

“Slim it, Minho!” Newt snapped with a roll of his eyes.

“I’ll do it.” Thomas said with a nod of determination, “But in exchange, I need you two to skip running practise after school today with me and Chuck.” He brought up, looking between Newt and Minho. Chuck instantly perked up at the comment, curiosity written all over his facial expression.

Minho squinted his eyes at the boy, as though Thomas had just insulted everything he stood for, as well as his great ancestors, whereas Newt blinked in confusion.

“What for?” Newt asked.

" _ **Exploring the city**_."

"Better stop playin' games and just tell us, _Shank_."

Thomas simply grinned, urging for them to come closer, since it was a secret - the three boys complied.

“ _So us four can infiltrate Beetle Blade and study their runners.”_

The two 11th grade boys tensed up at the information, widening their eyes in shock, and leaning back.

Chuck gasped, whereas Newt let a nervous laugh escape from his lips.

“Look, Tommy, all’s well and good, yeah, but---“

“Thomas, what’s this with you, _huh?_ _Another death wish? You know what would happen if they caught us trespassing?_ ” Minho interrupted silently, placing an arm around the shorter boy’s shoulder, pulling him closer – Thomas turned his head to look over at Minho, who had a visible frown on his face.

“Come _on_ , you guys,” Thomas urged, looking between the three, “They have so much information on us, but we have hardly _**any**_ on them,” He reasoned, “You’re telling me you guys aren’t even the _slightest_ bit curious?” He enquired, “ _How they run, how they analyse, how they train?_ ” He listed off in question, causing Minho and Newt to send each other a simultaneous look, before turning their heads back to face Thomas.

“… _Not really, no_.”

“ _Seems like it’s just you, Tommy_.”

“Don’t worry, Thomas! I’ll come with you!”

“…Thanks, Chuck…” Thomas replied with a forced smile – as the Greenie motioned to get up and put his food in the bin, knowing that it was a futile effort to ask them, Minho spontaenously pulled him back down to remain seated by his side.

“.. ** _Alright_** _, shuck face, **fine**._ ” Minho muttered in a bitterly defeated tone – Thomas blinked in surprise at the older guy’s sudden change of heart, and couldn’t help but turn himself around to face him.

Newt looked between the two silently, until he rolled his eyes and followed Minho’s example.

“… _What’s the plan, Tommy?_ ” The blond enquired with a mutter.

Tearing his eyes away from Minho, Thomas lit up at Newt’s acceptance.

“ _I just think that it’s time we went out there to see what we’re really up against._ ” Thomas replied, subconsciously glancing over at Minho’s lips, before looking away.

The Keeper then glanced down at Thomas for a few moments, before turning his head to the side with an unnoticeable gulp.


	7. Plan Into Action: Spying & Bonding

Thomas had found himself as distracted as ever in both his morning and afternoon lessons.

Practically itching for the bell to go every time he was greeted with the appearance of his teachers, the Greenie's head would constantly look up at the clocks, rather than down at his unfinished work; of course, it caused most of the teachers to sternly advise him to focus on the lesson, resulting in giggles from the girls, and barks of laughter from the boys - but he still paid no attention.   
  
Somewhat luckily, Thomas didn't have English Literature with Brenda, so he reckoned he'd give it a day before speaking to her - after all, it was kind of awkward for him - jacking off to the thought of a girl he had just met, and all.  _And the principal's daughter, not to mention.  
_  
Putting his new lessons and awkward introductions at the beginning of them aside, Thomas found that Newt and Minho were in most of them - it was lucky that he was seated relatively near to them, or right by their side - although truthfully, Thomas preferred being by Newt's side, since the blond actually  _helped_  him with things he couldn't quite grasp the concept of.

History was one of the many subjects that Newt was impeccably good at – their teacher, Mr Glanville, was a gruff man who was visibly balding, causing his bushy eyebrows to stand out all the more - to Thomas, the elder man was the kind of teacher whose voice always droned on and on in the background, and would scold you for a prolonged amount of time if you looked even the slightest bit disinterested. 

Still, his appearance was rather comical to the Greenie - like the kind of thing you'd see in a cartoon or something.

In Minho’s case, the Keeper seemed to be there just for the sake of messing around, given that he was, in short, a teenage prodigy.  
  
All in all, it was a relatively good school day for Thomas, which was saying something. As usual, Minho was sat with his fellow runners at lunch, whilst this time, Thomas and Newt were found by Chuck, who seemed a lot more hyperactive after hearing Thomas' plan.   
  
The three boys had then proceeded to discuss Thomas' proposition at breakfast in far more detail, although Thomas and Newt had somewhat discussed parts of it in their lessons together - but the more Thomas spoke about it, the more he found himself wanting to up and leave the school in that instant.  
  
Luckily for him, Thomas' last lesson was Math - not because of the content taught, or because Ms Denton was his favourite teacher, but because Minho and Newt were sat right in front of him, meaning that he wouldn't be looking around for them in the school like an idiotically lost doe.  
  
Yet again, head looking up at the clock, shoulders tensed up as he leaned over his desk, and legs crossed, Thomas noticed that Ms Denton hadn't given her lecture in regards to some random mathematic formula a rest - it almost got to the point of causing Harriet and Sonya to simultaneously fall asleep - as they questioned what Thomas was waiting for, only to receive short replies from the Greenie, they sent each other a glance of curiosity, before shrugging and continuing to look down at their work, now utterly disinterested as they were making notes.  
  
" _Hey, Shuckface!_ " Minho hissed at the Greenie, head low as he attempted to look at Thomas out of the corner of his eye.  
  
Thomas slowly tore his gaze away from the clock at the very front of the classroom, and brought his head down at a normal level to look at Minho. With a cocked eyebrow, he sent Minho a look of question as he mouthed a small  _‘what?’_ , resulting in the taller boy to shift in irritation.  
  
"Focus on your shuckin' work before you get a detention!"   
  
" ** _Jesus_** _, Tommy, you’re like my dog when it was just a puppy,_ " Newt couldn't help but comment silently with a snigger, “Excited beyond belief.”

“ _More like Chuck,_ ” Minho replied, causing Thomas to frown and nudge the Keeper’s chair with his foot.

" _This plan will be all for nothin' if you get an after school detention, Shank!"_ Minho warned, ignoring Thomas’ action, " _Keep your excitement in your pants, and don't make it so obvious you're waitin' for something!_ "  
  
"Alright,  _alright!_ " Thomas gave up after a while in reply, grabbing his pencil and sticking his tongue out at Minho.

Sonya could only squint her eyes at the boys and their idiotically secretive conversation.

* * *

"Still can’t believe it -  ** _the_**  Minho  _\- Keeper of The Runners, one of the top students, and running champion_ …ditching his  _beloved_  running practise for the  ** _first_** _time_  in the  _history of **ever**_.”

“ _Slim it, Newton_.”

“Hey, I didn’t say a thing.”

“ _Can you **both**  slim it? Thomas’ trying to concentrate!_”

As the boys of the A2578 dorm room were making their way down the extended staircase, travelling towards the path which led to the school’s entrance (or in their case, the exit), Thomas found himself consistently licking and biting down on his lips. The Greenie knew that only Chuck seemed to notice that he was currently in deep thought.

The students were now pouring themselves out of the school whilst chattering on and on, either heading back to their dorms, after school practises, studying outside, or venturing out into the city.

Thomas found himself compelled to bolt out of the school as soon as the bell went – he didn’t know where this sudden rush of energy had come from, but whatever it was, he knew that he was excited for the events which were about to take place. Of course, as they put their books away in their lockers, Minho had commented on how lucky he was to have not received a detention.

Upon Chuck’s arrival at that very moment, the four Gladers readjusted their bags, walking out of the maze-like building.

“What you thinkin’, Tommy?” Newt asked with curious blinks, placing his hand on the boy’s shoulder. Thomas tore his eyes away from the ground, looking into Newt’s eyes with determination.

“The Shank’s probably thinkin’ about a lot of things,” Minho interjected sarcastically with a roll of his eyes.

Newt cocked an eyebrow at the Keeper, taking his hand off of Thomas’ shoulder, and turning his head to look over at the Keeper, who was walking on his right side, Chuck walking on Minho’s right.

“Look, if you’re going to be bitter about missing your bloody running practise the entire time we’re doing this, then---“

“I can do this by myself.” Thomas interrupted, causing the boys to look over at him silently, facial expressions blank, “Honestly, the more I think about the risks that follow, the more I don’t want you guys to get into trouble.” He muttered, “Especially you, Chuck.” He added on, looking over at the plump boy.

“But I’m fine!” Chuck insisted, sounding as enthusiastic as possible for the sake of convincing Thomas.

“…Hey, Shank.”

Thomas jumped at the sudden sight of Minho stood in front of him, who was one stair below him, yet still managing to tower over him. With the Keeper’s arms folded, Thomas couldn’t help but glance down at Minho’s forearm muscles, before looking up at him distractedly.

“Wh-What is it?” The Greenie asked cautiously, knitting his eyebrows together.

“.. _’Trouble’_  is my middle name,” Minho informed with a grin, “I’m comin’ with you, Shuckface.  _Risk or no risk, I’m with Thomas. **I’m with Thomas one hundred percent**._ ”

“..Same here,” Newt added on with a smile, “I mean, this could  _actually_  be the  _first_  opportunistic chance for us to understand our opponents better.”

“Good that,” Minho agreed with a nod, turning himself around and continuing to make his way, “Now let’s hurry it up, Shanks!”

Thomas looked between the two boys in surprise as he held his bag strap.

“… _Good that_ …” Thomas repeated quietly to himself, abruptly smiling and hopping down the stairs to walk by Minho’s side, “ _Thanks, Minho_.”

As the four boys made their way out of the school’s premises, now walking down the pavement, Newt and Chuck were conversing with one another whilst Thomas looked around in awe, eyes sparkling. Even if the school was located on the outskirts of the city, it was beautiful all the same – cool air making contact with the skin of one as the blue sky was dimming, the autumn leaves dancing around in the air, and the many shops and businesses aligned across the road, with the citizens all making idle chatter, vehicles travelling past.

“Why you klunkin’ your pants, Greenie?” Minho asked with a cocked eyebrow, shifting his backpack strap over his left shoulder, “We’re not even in the heart of the city yet.” He pointed out far too obviously, causing Thomas to snap out of it and blink over at the Keeper, lips parted.

“When I first came to this place, I was more in a rush to find the school, rather than take a look around and at the sights,” Thomas explained, “At night, I think our room has one of the best views of the heart of it from a distance.” He informed.

“ _Huh, **really**?_ ” Minho asked sarcastically with a cocked eyebrow, pausing for a few moments, “…So, _anyway_ , tell me, Greenie – where exactly did you come from?”

Thomas froze at the question.

“Area wise, Shank.” Minho specified.

“…Nowhere special, really,” Thomas replied with a slight shrug, internally sighing in relief, “Just came from a normal town, with a normal neighbourhood, living a normal life.”

“Pft, you’re tellin’ me.” Minho replied with a snigger, causing Thomas to squint his eyes.

“Alright, then – what about you?” Thomas enquired, mimicking the gesture of holding a microphone as he held it close towards Minho’s mouth.

The Keeper looked down at Thomas’ hand for a few moments, before looking away with a laugh of disbelief, forcing the Greenie to lower it. Thomas merely pouted at the action, until Minho spoke up whilst looking straight ahead.

“I’m the same as you – nowhere special in particular,” He replied with a shrug, running a hand through his gelled up hair. 

“I don’t believe that for a second.” Thomas replied with a snort of laughter, resulting in the elder boy to cock an eyebrow, turning his head to look at the Greenie.

“What makes you say that?” Minho enquired suspiciously.

“C’mon,” Thomas said with a snigger, “ _Running champion, Keeper of The Runners, and one of the best students at this shuck school?_ ” He listed off as a reminder, “ _’Course_ none of that has  ** _anything_**  to do with where you came from.” He added on sarcastically with a teasing smirk.

“It doesn’t, really,” Minho retorted with another shrug, “Where I came from has nothing to do with it.” He pointed out.

“Wh—Seriously?!” Thomas asked in disbelief, gaping at the taller boy.

“I don’t understand why that’s such a shock.” Minho replied casually, eyes now half lidded, as though, to Thomas, he was bored with the conversation.

“No, well—Like—“ Thomas ruffled his hair up momentarily, clearly confused, “Usually the environment around us is what shapes us into who we are.”

“Guess so,” Minho replied with yet another shrug, “But I worked hard ‘cause I wanted to – it’s not like the environment held me at gunpoint and made me or nothin’…”

“…Yeah, guess so…” Thomas replied with a sigh, scratching the back of his head. Minho was an odd guy, that was for sure.

It was at that moment the Greenie heard Chuck’s outburst of laughter, turning his head around to see that Newt was sniggering in amusement – to Thomas, the two almost seemed related.

“Slim it, Shank!” Minho snapped at the plump boy with a kiss of his teeth, whipping his head around.

As Chuck abruptly attempted to comply with the Keeper’s demand, he placed his hand over his mouth, only to have his laughter become muffled. This caused Newt to do the same. Thomas simply rolled his eyes with a smile at the sight, turning his head back around to look ahead of him.

“Anyway, what’s your plan with the Beetle Blades?” Minho carried on in question, changing the subject, “We can’t just go waltzing into the school at the front gates, since they wear uniforms – we’ll stick out as bad as Gally’s sore thumb.” He informed Thomas.

“Most of these public schools are located near local neighbourhoods, right?” Thomas asked, “We can just go to the neighbourhood and climb over the wall which connects to their field.” He proposed.

“Alright…” Minho replied steadily, “But how do we observe those shanks at the running track? Their school grounds are practically on par with ours. Their fields are huge, so we’ll be a distance away from them, unless we get closer and wanna get caught.” The boy informed with a cocked eyebrow.

“That’s where Chuck comes in,” Thomas replied, turning back around to face the 10th grader with a smile, “Hey, Chuck, you got the binoculars?”

“Yup!” The plump boy beamed, taking his backpack strap off of his shoulder, proceeding to open his bag as he fished around for the said object.

Newt and Minho both stared at the younger boy in disbelief.

“In all the time you’ve shared a room with us, I never knew you owned binoculars..” Newt pointed out with a couple of blinks, brown eyes currently squinted.

“That’s ‘cause you guys never asked!”

“And our Greenie here **_did_**?” Minho enquired, his eyes also squinted to send Thomas a judgemental look.

“I just asked him if he had anything that could magnify an image clearly from a distance.” Thomas explained, holding his hands up innocently.

"You _do_  realise we have phones in this modern day society, right, Shuckface?" Minho inquired.

"Yeah, but zooming in with a phone camera makes the image all grainy." Thomas reasoned.

With a short pause, Newt let out a laugh, and Minho shrugged, replying with a small 'you have a point'.

“Well, guess binoculars are better than nothing,” Newt announced, “Although, it _would_ have been preferable to see their training up close…” He muttered, holding his chin in thought.

“We need to be as invisible as possible to those Shuckfaces, otherwise I would've suggested we sit on their bleachers to watch.” Minho pointed out distastefully.

“Who knows what they’ll do if they find us – this might actually be worse than breaking the bloody curfew.” Newt predicted, "It's trespassing _and_ spying!"

“But still! This sounds really exciting!”

**_“It’s a challenge.”_ **

**_“It’s a challenge.”_ **

Thomas blinked in surprise at the unison of the sentence he had just spoken – looking over at Minho, the taller boy seemed just as shocked as he was.

As though he was snapped out of a daze, Minho coughed behind his hand, rolling his eyes.

“Don’t copy me, Shuckface.” He muttered, hands on his hips.

“I could say the same thing to you,” Thomas replied. Newt snorted at the two and their minimalistic bickering.

“You two are like best friends joined at the hip or something, I swear.” The blond pointed out. Chuck couldn’t help but clutch his stomach whilst laughing uncontrollably as Thomas’ face flushed a deep red.

_“ **We’re not**!”_

_“_ _Who would ever befriend **this**  ugly shank? **”**_

* * *

Thomas looked up at the public school's extended back wall, connecting to the spacious field - with weeds growing between the grains of cement in the wall, he could also identify that there were ivy plants practically covering up a majority of the brickwork.

To the Greenie, the wall shielding Beetle Blade from trespassers was relatively high, and he suddenly felt a pit in his stomach, after noticing the faint shouts of the students coming from beyond it.

"I think we need to help each other climb up..." Thomas brought up, turning his head to look over at the three other Gladers.

Minho squinted his eyes at the boy.

"Why you lookin' at  _me_ , Shank?" He asked with a smirk, hands on his hips.

"I wasn't looking at you." Thomas replied in defence with a roll of his eyes.

" _Sure_  you weren't." Minho retorted, following the Greenie's gesture - he then strode over to the wall, touching the shorter boy’s chest with his hand, giving him a light push, "Outta the way, Greenie," He teased, "Leave this to the  _pro_."

Thomas shook his head with a huff of frustration, resulting in Newt and Chuck to laugh.

After the Keeper made a swift jump first time, his backpack following obediently behind him, he pulled himself up to sit on top of the wall, twisting his body around to look down at the three boys with a grin. Of course, Thomas gaped at the gesture, whereas Newt rolled his eyes (as though this was something his friend did on a day to day basis), with Chuck's eyes sparkling as he practically beamed.

"Hurry up then, Shanks," Minho urged, holding his hand out for one of the three to take, "Someone else needs to give 'em a step up. It's kinda high." He informed.

“ _Gee, you **think**?_ " Thomas asked with a mutter, envious of the fact that Minho was the tallest out of all of them, "Chuck, you go next,” The boy urged, turning his head and taking his shoulder bag off to crouch down, interlacing his fingers together to create a step for the plump boy. 

Chuck nodded intently with a smile, skipping over – as the 10th grader grabbed Minho’s outstretched hand, he then placed his other on Thomas’ shoulder as a form of support. Thomas felt as though he was about to sink and drop as soon as the weight of Chuck’s shoe was on his hands, and the boy's backpack was shoving him in the face.

With a grunt of desperation, Thomas squeezed his eyes shut as he pulled his hands upwards, whilst Minho was frowning in concentration, his breathing becoming far more prominent as he pulled on Chuck’s hand, his muscles tensing up visibly.

After a few moment of struggling grunts, Chuck sighed in relief after managing to sit on top of the wall by Minho's side.

"How's it looking up there?" Newt enquired curiously with folded arms, looking up at his two roommates - as Thomas caught his breath and wiped his hands on his trousers, Chuck turned his head to look behind him, raising his binoculars up to his eyes.

"It's fine! They're a long way away, so they can't see us!" The 10th grader reassured as he turned back around with an a-okay gesture, lowering the object.

"You shanks might wanna hurry it up, though." Minho informed, looking around as his hand was outstretched yet again, "Before someone walks down this road, and questions what we're doing." He added on.

At the reminder, Thomas quickly stood up straight, looking around - Minho was right, they were lucky enough to do this without anyone around, and the many houses aligned behind the back wall of the school were most likely home to most of the students - they needed to hurry it up, since it was the end of the school day for Beetle Blade.

"Alright, Newt, you go next." Thomas stated quickly, turning his head back around to face the blond - as he was crouching down and interlacing his fingers yet again, Newt gave an abrupt nod, making his way.

"Sorry, Tommy.." He muttered, somewhat embarrassedly, as he placed a hand on Thomas' shoulder, his other being simultaneously pulled up by Chuck and Minho. Thomas merely shook his head with a forced smile, feeling as though he was about to sink yet again as soon as Newt's shoe pushed down in his hands. 

With a small grunt, and the minimalistic sensation of Newt's backpack shoving in his face, Thomas sighed in relief upon seeing the blond sat on the wall, between Chuck and Minho.

“C’mon, Thomas.” Minho urged yet again.

Looking around one final time as he straightened himself, Thomas wore his shoulder bag and looked up at the three boys - Newt and Minho were holding their hands out for him.

Sending them a smile of gratitude, Thomas made a short run, jumping and clasping both of his hands with Minho and Newt’s – they instantly tensed up and their grips tightened as they both leaned over with a wince – after a few short seconds, they then grabbed the boy by the elbows with a few grunts, Chuck attempting to help them through words of encouragement.

“ _Not helpin’, **Shuckface**_ ,” Minho hissed towards the plump boy (causing Chuck to pout), before looking down at Thomas, “Hey Greenie, try puttin’ some strength into it, will you?” He growled.

“I’m trying!” Thomas snapped, eyes squeezed shut to get his desperation across.

“You can do it, Tommy,” Newt reassured airily, one eye squinted, “You’re almost there.”

After clenching his teeth, the Greenie heaved himself up, grabbing the top of the wall for dear life. As Minho’s hand instantly let go of Thomas’, the shorter boy realised that Minho’s hands were sweaty beforehand, whereas Newt’s hand remained cold as he let go.

Minho and Newt instantly tilted their heads back whilst panting silently to themselves, looking up at the sky, whereas Thomas turned himself around to sit up, wedged between the boys.

“Now then,” Newt began, sitting up straight and composing himself relatively quickly, “Let’s gather the data we need and just _leave_.” He ordered, sounding relatively fed up.

“How much do you Shanks **_weigh_**?” Minho asked in disbelief, sitting up.

“Nothing compared to the weights you lift.” Chuck pointed out with a laugh.

“I haven’t warmed up today.” Minho informed, somewhat offended as he raised his eyebrows momentarily at Thomas – it was as though he was trying to say it was the Greenie’s fault - Thomas merely ignored the elder boy, shuffling and turning his body around fully to view the runners of Beetle Blade in the distance, the running track and bleachers not that hard to miss.

The other boys followed suite, with Minho sat on Thomas’ right, Newt sat on Thomas’ left, and Chuck sat on Newt’s left.

“Minho, your memory is good, right?” The Greenie enquired, causing the Keeper to cock an eyebrow.

“Yeah, why?”

“Me and Tommy decided you’re going to be the one to memorise every single one of their first string runners,” Newt informed, “ _Ability wise_.” He added on.

After a few moments of silence from Minho, Thomas couldn’t help but look at the boy hopefully – the Keeper then nodded his head with a short ‘good that’, proceeding to take his backpack off, opening it and taking a notebook and pencil out.

“Newt,” Thomas turned his head to look at the boy, “You can begin coming up with the strategies we’ll use in the actual tournament, and how we’ll train to beat them.”

“You got it, Tommy.” The blond replied with a smile, causing Thomas to return it. Newt wasted no time in taking out his notebook and pencil, too.

Thomas then leaned forward to look over at Chuck.

“Chuck, you and me will take turns watching them.” The Greenie informed softly, and Thomas could see the 10th grader beaming whilst nodding intently, holding his binoculars out for him to take first.

After accepting Chuck’s offer, and taking the object from the plump boy’s hands, Thomas raised the binoculars up to his eyes, looking over at the Beetle Blade runners.

With the gap between himself and the runners shortened, Thomas saw that they were all relatively well-built, but not as well as Minho. It explained why they were neck to neck with the Keeper at the last competition.

Student spectators were all wearing their matching school uniforms, whilst the runners themselves were wearing their running outfits – there seemed to be more boys on the team than girls.

Turning his head to look left and right, Thomas had begun to analyse those on the first string, as he could see the stark contrast between them and the regular runners on the team.

“There’s one player who’s running normally…” He began slowly, causing Minho to roll his eyes.

“Gee, that’s somethin’ worth remembering.”

“He seems to be speeding up drastically, though – I think he’s doing a 400 meter practise…” Thomas continued on, ignoring the elder boy’s comment – the lone first string Beetle Blade runner seemed to be the captain of the team, form immaculate – it was almost like he was copying Minho’s form. Then again, given the amount of videos they must have watched of the Keeper, it was understandable.

“It’s a standard running technique,” Newt interjected quickly, “Minho, I think he’s a progression runner, so remember that.” He instructed, causing Minho to nod repeatedly as he wrote in the notebook.

“What’s a progression runner?” Chuck asked, which Thomas was thankful for, since he had no clue what the term meant, either, but masked it up by keeping his eyes glued to the captain through the binoculars – the Beetle Blade student seemed to have finished the run, and was now drinking from his water bottle.

“Exactly what the name means,” Newt explained, “It means someone who runs a long distance, starting at a normal pace, but speeds up midway through it.”

“That’s what the runner I was paired up against did last time,” Minho added on with an irritated mutter, “Seems like I got stuck with the troublesome type…” He predicted, momentarily snatching the binoculars from Thomas’ hands to look through and confirm it – the Greenie cocked an eyebrow, until Minho pulled away, giving it back to him with a nod, “It’s the same guy I raced against.”

“I think you’re right, Newt,” Thomas added on with a nod, peering through the binoculars yet again, “The rest of them are trying to practise the same thing.” He informed.

As he could see a few more of the first string runners on their mark, the Greenie noticed that they were racing against each other on the running track, the captain shouting all sorts of encouragement at them. However, he couldn’t really tell if they were speeding up. They seemed a lot slower, in comparison to the captain.

“Minho, last time you raced against that guy, you barely won.” Newt reminded.

“Thanks for the reminder, Newton.”

“But I think we can train you with hill repeats…” Newt informed, “By going back and forth with uphill running, you’ll be able to adjust and achieve a long distance run in a curved path easier than before…And faster.”

Minho paused for a few moments as he held his chin in thought.

“Sounds reasonable enough,” He replied with a slight shrug – Thomas then proceeded to give Chuck the binoculars, who looked through them excitedly, swinging his feet back and forth.  

“What d’you see, Chuck?” Thomas enquired.

“A few of them seem kind of tired…but not really – they’ve started a new race.” The plump boy replied steadily, his eyes following the runners, “They don’t seem to be running at full speed, and the distance is kind of long, but not really?” He added on in question.

“They must be base runners,” Minho muttered, looking down at his lap as he scribbled away, looking up to peer at their appearances from time to time, “They’re the type to be on the verge of fatigue as they’re running at a normal pace, but because the moderate distance is an issue, you never really know whether or not they’ll keep it up. For all we know, they could have random spikes of energy and speed up…Ben was racing against one, I think, and the Shank lost.”

“Again, it’s a standard technique.” Newt replied, “I noticed them do that a lot in the last competition, but they mostly slowed down…Ben was just unlucky.”

“Truthfully, it seems to me like we can deal with them.” Minho added on.

“But that’s what caught you guys off guard,” Thomas commented, “They’ve used new techniques which you guys had no clue they were capable of,” He added on with a shrug, “And they know how our first string runners usually race.”

“…Tommy has a point - we need to make the most of this and really study them.” Newt urged.

“…Thanks, Newt.”

* * *

“So, in summary, I think we should start making our first string runners practise Fartleks and Hill Repeats.”

“Good that, I’m on board with it.”

“Wait, what are Fartleks again?”

With Newt and Minho sighing out in exasperation at Chuck’s cluelessness, Thomas couldn’t help but laugh nervously, hands in his laps.

After the boys of the A2578 dorm had analysed the first string runners of Beetle Blade, Thomas felt as though a weight was lifted off of his chest – like he was actually a step closer towards becoming a Glade Runner. He was rather surprised by the amount of running terminology there was.

Swiftly jumping down from the wall, the four were thankful no one had caught them. They then proceeded to make their way back towards the Glade A dorm, until Chuck stopped.

Thomas turned around to look at the boy curiously.

“Chuck?” He asked, “You alright?”

“I wanna go to a café!” The plump boy beamed, “Since we’re in the city, we might as well, right?” He asked with a nervous laugh, looking between Newt and Minho hopefully, who were both turned around to face him with tilted heads.

“Now that you mention it, I am craving sonething to drink,” Thomas replied with a smile, turning his head to look over at the two taller boys, “Plus, I kind of wanted to stroll around the city for a bit – what do you guys say?” He asked.

Newt and Minho’s lips parted in surprise as they looked at each other for a few moments, before Minho rolled his eyes, and Newt grinned.

“We have three hours until the curfew,” The blond informed, scratching his cheek, “I think we have some time to spare.”

“Plus, ain’t no point in going back to the after school practise now.” Minho huffed out, hands on his hips.

“Awesome,” Thomas replied with a grin, “Let’s go.”

And so, there the four boys were – sat within a relatively dim café, Thomas couldn’t help but stare in awe when he first walked in, the bell ringing and signifying their entrance.

The wafting scent of pastries and coffee was pleasing to one’s nose, although Thomas knew Frypan could easily surpass the skill needed to achieve such a successful business – after all, there were a ton of people sat inside, despite the time now being 4:00pm. There was a constant chatter, although it wasn’t annoying, but rather pleasing to the ears. Thomas could tell he would become a regular customer here, and a lot of high school students seemed to love the place, too. The four even spotted some of the Gladers 

After being seated by a waitress, who Minho attempted to relentlessly flirt with (only to get embarrassingly shot down on the spot), the boys made their orders – Minho and Newt both ordered tea (Minho's being green, whilst Newt's was Earl grey), Chuck ordered a hot chocolate and a blueberry muffin, whereas Thomas ordered a cappuccino.  

The Greenie couldn’t help but be reminded of his mother; he knew she loved cappuccinos.

After they had finished wolfing down their drinks (and muffin), paying for their respective orders, the boys were now sat there lazily, conversing with one another.

“Remind me if I’m wrong,” Thomas began steadily, “But Fartleks are when the person runs varying distances at a normal pace, taking breaks in between, when they’re on the verge of fatigue, right?"

Minho couldn’t help but whistle in impressment at Thomas, his left arm dangling off of the back of his chair – sat in front of the Greenie and Chuck, Newt was seated by the Keeper.

“Exactly, Tommy.” Newt praised with a smile, "It builds their endurance slowly."

Thomas couldn’t help but grin, as Chuck stared at him with a beam.

* * *

“I still haven’t heard from Teresa…I’m getting worried…” Thomas couldn’t help but sigh out, “She said she’d text me.”

The four boys were now travelling through the outskirts of the city after exploring, on their way back to the dorms of Glade A.

With the streets relatively empty, given that they were no longer in the heart of it, a few street lamps were beginning to light up, cicadas now crying out.

“Is she nice?” Chuck asked with a grin, “I wanna meet her!”

“ _Idiot,_ ” Newt interjected with a snigger, “Tommy wouldn’t be friends with her if she wasn’t nice.” He pointed out, “And besides, you can’t – if I’m not mistaken, she doesn’t live around this area, like the rest of us - right, Tommy?” He asked, looking over at the Greenie.

Thomas nodded, causing the blond to smirk.

"You two do make _quite_ the childhood friends couple, I must admit.” Newt added on teasingly, causing Thomas to groan and facepalm, feeling his face heating up, “Right, Minho?” He enquired.

“ _So, what?_ ” Minho asked, raising an eyebrow at Thomas, “ _You bangin’ her long distance or something?_ ”

“ ** _What?!_** ” Thomas called out, “ _Of course not! She’s **not** like that!_ ” He snapped defensively.

“ _Uh-huh, sure_ ,” The Keeper replied with a roll of his eyes, “Still into her though, aren't ya? Wonderin’ where she is, why she isn’t textin’ you,” He listed off, “ _And_ _you’ve gotten off to the thought of her._ ” The boy retorted, saying it more like a statement, rather than a question.

Thomas tensed up at being told such a thing, proceeding to frown and turn his head away to break off the eye contact.

“ _Typical_.” Minho added on after a while.

"Hey, Minho!" Newt snapped.

Before Thomas could retort, wanting to refer to the waitress that Minho had failed to pick up, two unfamiliar voices spoke up.

 _“_ ** _Hurry it up, boys._** _”_ One Griever urged, facial expression stone cold as he interjected.

 _“_ ** _Curfew’s being put into motion soon._** _”_ The other added on.

The boys paused after noticing they were already in front of Maze Runner’s entrance, and a few other students were entering the place, sounding just as tired as they felt.

As they continued to make their way, now not having that much energy to speak until dinner, Thomas couldn’t help but worry about Teresa’s attempted escape from WICKED more and more, placing Minho at the very back of his mind.

After the Gladers had made their way up the short stairs to enter the dorm building, Thomas jumped in surprise as Frypan stood at the inside entrance with a smile, greeting them - in addition to this, he told Thomas that Jorge told him to let the Greenie know that his first allowance was in the A2578 dorm post box.


	8. Rotations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :*・°☆(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉHELLO THERE DEAR READERS!*:･ﾟ✧
> 
> [Insert ‘it’s been 84 years’ gif here....again ;;]
> 
> fORGIVE ME FOR THE LACK OF UPDATES - NOT FOR JUST THIS FIC, BUT ALL OF MY OTHER STORIES - WRITERS BLOCK REALLY TAKES ITS TOLL ON ME, AND I HAVE A TON OF EXAMS TO REVISE FOR |D;;
> 
> Most of you must be wondering if ANY of my fics have been abandoned/are dead, bUT I JUST WANT TO SAY THAT NO, NONE OF THEM WILL EVER BE ABANDONED, I SWEAR TO YOU!! I know I'm really slow with updates, leaving all of you wonderful readers waiting, and it may seem like the stories have been abandoned, but I don't think it's right! In my opinion, y' gotta finish what you start, after all! So please know that even though the updates are slow, none of my stories will evER be abandoned.
> 
> Enjoy the newest chapter, dear readers!!!~ <3

_Thomas felt as though the rest of the week had gone by in a flash._

After marvelling to himself at the sight of his annual Tuesday allowance, the Greenie experienced a sense of belonging and completion upon the arrival of his furniture, the following day after school.

Of course, assembling his chair and desk with the help of Chuck and Frypan proved to be a slight challenge, given that Minho and Newt were now occupied with their clearly-established running practise, having quite the muscle for carrying things in comparison to most of the Gladers. 

Still, Frypan was a huge help in Thomas' opinion.

As though his imagination had matched his reality perfectly, the A2578 dorm now harboured the Greenie's desk and chair in the near corner of the room, on the right side. 

With a sigh of relief as he sat in his plump computer chair, Thomas then placed his laptop, shoulder bag, other necessities, and multiple schoolbooks on the desk and in its particular compartments, before thanking Frypan for his help - the taller boy proceeded to reply with a booming _'don't mention it!'_ , and disappear off into the kitchens.

After a while of using his desk to complete his homework (or as Thomas would call it, dormwork), the boy then decided to watch some movies with Chuck and the other boys on the first floor of the Glade.

* * *

The rest of the week was relatively busy for Thomas - the Greenie did his work consistently, listened to the teachers as best as he could (especially Ms Denton - they got on amazingly well, much to the amusement of the Gladers), sat with Newt and Chuck at lunch times (whereas Minho was sat quite the distance away from them, with the fellow runners), and spent his time watching movies with the boys of Glade A after dinner, during his free time with Chuck. Sometimes, Newt and Minho would be present, too, if they weren't busy with other things.

Of course, Minho was by Thomas' side at breakfast and dinner most of the time, since, in Thomas' opinion, Minho was pent up - pent up in regards to repressing sarcastic comments about him throughout the course of their lunchtime, that is - he seemed rather insatiable to the boy.

The thought then struck Thomas - maybe Minho was trying to balance out the time he spent between the runners, and his roommates - if that was the case, then Thomas couldn't really argue. Himself, Chuck, and Newt seemed to be Minho's priority now, making Thomas feel a slight, questionable smugness, although he would never admit it.

He had learnt from Newt that before his arrival, the blond boy would also sit with Minho and the runners all the time during their meals, leaving where Chuck ate in general up to the Greenie's melancholic imagination.

_Thomas' stomach churned at the thought._

On the other hand, hanging out with Chuck and Newt after school to see how their tutoring sessions usually went was a lot more amusing to Thomas than he would liked to have thought. 

Whilst Chuck was busy answering the questions, Newt filled Thomas in on how well the running team's training was currently going.

Their trespassing into Beetle Blade seemed to have made quite the difference for their training regimen in a positive light, which Thomas was thankful for.

* * *

Saturday came far too quickly - the Greenie found himself joined by Minho, Newt, and Chuck as they went out into the city for the purpose of buying his running gear, and a sports bag for the him to put his newly-purchased equipment in.

Thomas couldn't help but fully register the fact that, in three days, he would become an official first string runner.

The boy was a variety of emotions. Fearful, curious, happy, but most of all, excited - although, he would be lying if he said that he wasn't kind of sceptical about Minho becoming his personal trainer. 

Would the guy make it super difficult for him? Would his training regime look like the hardest thing in the world? If Thomas was being honest, he didn't want to find out.

However, the coach and supervisors seemed to show up less and less when Newt spoke about them, now that Thomas thought about it - reassuring him to some extent, Thomas thought that Minho and Newt were probably doing just that good of a job for the team, that the adults felt as though their presence wasn't doing much to help.

Of course, the boy was still surprised by Minho's appearance on the Saturday, learning that Newt had dragged him along, given that the taller boy was Keeper of The Runners, and needed to keep his teammates in check - not to mention the fact that Thomas was now 'his responsibility', as they had quoted beforehand. 

Still, Thomas appreciated the elder boy's appearance all the same - even if he was the epitome of sarcasm.

It had taken them quite a while to buy the stuff, given the fact that Minho looked at quality over budget when it came to shopping, whilst Newt was somewhat the opposite - the blond explained the complications it would have on Thomas' running if the Greenie didn't purchase the right kind of running shoes and clothing, which, Thomas wasn't going to lie, put him on slight edge - the mention of mere leg injuries made him roll his eyes. This sounded like too much effort, and Newt was over-worrying, but Thomas knew that going through all of these timely precautions were for the best.

In the end, with Chuck's help in regards to design, Thomas managed to purchase breathable shoes (which were reasonable quality-wise, given the fact that he couldn't go blowing his cash out all at once), black shorts, and a long-sleeved blue shirt specifically for his running.

* * *

By Sunday evening, Thomas was finishing off the pile of homework on his desk (which now seemed to resemble Mount Everest itself, given the amount of books, sheets, and paper scattered around on it).

 _'Honestly, Mr Glanville needs to reassess how much homework he gives his students...'_ The boy couldn't help but think to himself in irritation, frowning down at his work, _'And to a Greenie, not to mention.'_

At this point, Thomas was willing to admit that he was a Greenie. 

Not that the work was entirely difficult, given that he was here through a scholarship, and had to prove himself, but that it was utterly time consuming, and the boy knew that he had far more important things to do.

Not that he could pinpoint or say what, exactly, but still.

A while had passed, the clock ticking away in the background, until Thomas had finally settled his pen down, sitting up straight to look down at his fully completed homework, before instantly letting out a sigh of relief, undoing his frown - he felt like Alby, slightly.

Thomas then slouched in his chair, turning his seat around whilst stretching out with a laugh, and groaning in utter bliss.

Chuck, who was sat on his own respective bunk, reading a random comic, then tore his eyes away from it, looking up at Thomas with a smile.

"Finally done?" The pudgy boy inquired, and Thomas stood up abruptly with a nod, proceeding to make his way towards his wardrobe, crouching down and opening it.

"Need to shower," Thomas informed, smiling to himself, "I feel like I deserve it." He added on.

"Of course you do." Chuck commented with a snigger, "You've officially caught up with this year's work so far in the span of less than a week - you're amazing, Thomas!" He beamed, causing the elder boy's face to flush slightly, "Minho and Newt should be comin' back to shower, too, so you guys had better hurry it up - something tells me that dinner will be ready in a bit - I can already smell it from here." The plump boy added on with a lick of his lips, patting his stomach.

Thomas turned his head around momentarily to squint his eyes at Chuck, but shook his head with a breathy laugh, going back to gathering his things. It wasn't anywhere near 6:30pm yet.

"Oh, and you're on clean up duty tonight, so you'd better get on that, Greenie." Chuck added on nonchalantly, eyes glued back to his comic.

Thomas tensed up.

His eyes widened.

_Shit._

He had totally forgotten.

Instantly standing up with his showering supplies, and the towel around his neck, Thomas speed-walked over to the whiteboard on the door, peering at it in intense concentration.

Great, so he was in charge of the laundry, washing up the dishes, and emptying the bins.

_Fun._

_'Well, at least everyone tends to their own bedsheets...'_ Thomas couldn't help but think with a sigh. He could only imagine the stains some of them would have, causing the Greenie to shudder at the mere thought.

Come to think of it, Chuck may have mentioned something about the bedsheets last week before leaving, when it was his turn to clean up.

_"Guess those other shanks must've already showered."_

_"You know what they're like on the Sunday practises - plus, we've been working them hard enough this week, so give 'em a bloody break."_

At that exact moment, the door was then opened - and far too spontaneously at that, since it had smacked into Thomas' face with such a force, causing the boy to drop his things, and tilt his head back in pain whilst sighing out slowly with an airy 'ow'.

Chuck, of course, burst out laughing at the sight as Newt and Minho had entered the room - the Keeper was practically drenched in sweat, whilst Newt tensed up in realisation, apologetically rushing his sentence as he crouched down to pick Thomas' things up. 

Minho couldn't help but part his lips and roll his eyes, resting his hand on his hip.

"Bloody hell, Tommy, I'm _so_ sorry! Are you alright?!"

"Why're you stood in front of the door in the first place, Shank?" 

"I-It's fine, Newt, honestly!" Thomas insisted with a nervous laugh, before directing his attention towards Minho, "I was checking the rotations for cleaning up today..." He added on in explanation, squeezing his eyes shut quickly to readjust his vision. 

As Newt stood by his side worriedly, still caught off guard, the blond then blinked over at the door to examine whether or not it was true.

"Oh, it's you this week?" Minho asked with a raised eyebrow - Thomas nodded his head curtly in reply, "If that's the case, I need you to wash my kit today." The Keeper informed monotonously, gesturing towards his sports bag in hand, before chucking it over by the laundry basket, "Have it done by tonight, _alright?_ " He teased, a slight smirk playing on his lips.

Thomas rolled his eyes as Newt struggled to contain his laughter, now holding the Greenie's dropped objects.

"Here, Tommy," Newt urged, causing Thomas to take his stuff back, before turning his head around to send Minho a sharp look.

"Just know that I'm not your shuckin' slave, so don't take advantage of the rotations - _I'm taking a shower_." Thomas muttered simply, not waiting for an answer as he abruptly left the room.

Minho blinked in surprise at the reply - after a few moments, the Keeper pointed over at the doorway, and turned his head to look over at Chuck curiously with a cocked eyebrow.

"The shuck crawled up _his_ backside?"

Chuck merely shrugged at him, going back to reading his comic, as Newt urged the elder guy to hurry up, already holding his showering supplies, and stood by the doorway.

* * *

"Geez...three weeks until I need to do this again..." Thomas muttered to himself.

As he cautiously pinched Minho's blue tank top to pick up and stare at through squinted eyes, the smell of it almost made the boy want to pass out. 

_'Seriously, this guy needs to tone down the amount he trains...'_

Stood within Glade A's laundry room, Thomas couldn't help but look around yet again - the room was absolutely huge, with laundry baskets and dryers practically scattered around the place. To the boy, the place was on par, and if not, better, than WICKED's top-quality laundromat. No one seemed to be putting money into the washing machines, though. 

 _'Must be free, then.'_ Thomas thought.

It seemed like a shame that most of the boys didn't put it to that much use - after all, there were only a few others currently present, chattering away as their clothes were being washed in the background, or finishing up in the dryers.

As Thomas looked back on it, a few minutes into his shower, Minho and Newt proceeded to enter their respective stalls as the sound of warm, running water was enhanced after a few seconds of shuffling - as the two seemed to be conversing quite a bit, knowing that the Greenie needed his space, Thomas quickly rushed his own activities, dried his hair, and changed his clothes - a regular, long-sleeved blue shirt, as well as navy tracksuit bottoms were always the right way to handle things to Thomas, in terms of comfort.

_And so, here he was._

After putting his things back in his wardrobe, picking up the dirty clothes himself, Newt, and Minho stripped off outside of the shower stalls beforehand, Thomas quickly dumped them in the laundry basket, feeling his face sour at the sight of the two other boys' shorts, wanting to get this over and done with quickly. Seriously, once every three weeks?

Of course, the laundry basket resembled a mountain pile - in addition to this, Thomas had to put Minho's black sports kit over his shoulder, and one could imagine how the trip down the two flights of stairs had gone for the Greenie – to Thomas, it felt like he was lifting the same amount of weights Minho did for keeping in shape.

Thomas then realised that he would be doing the same thing as the Keeper.

_Tomorrow was Monday._

He would be attending the morning and after school practises.

He was finally going to be a part of the first string running team. 

_A Glade Runner._

Officially.

Thomas was overwhelmed with excitement at the realisation, unable to help the goofy expression growing on his face.

There was a sudden motivation - doubts and worries were put to a rest, and doing the laundry didn't seem so bad to the Greenie anymore.

The boy put Minho's tank top back into the bag, and had begun to work consistently and diligently, knowing that he couldn't mix certain colours together when it came to the clothing (unless he wanted 'Captain Minho' to attend his practises in pink, which Thomas knew himself, Newt, Chuck, and just about anyone else would die from laughing at), but for the sake of not messing up, Thomas couldn't help but take his phone out to check and make sure with the internet.

The Greenie then looked up at the ceiling in thought.

_'Actually, Minho probably has lots of spare shirts for running, huh?'_

Yeah, that was probably the case - the guy was crazy organised, after all. 

With a slight shrug, Thomas decided to start with all of the shirts first - it made assorting colours easier, after all - shirts with the shirts, trousers with trousers, socks with socks, shorts with shorts---well, one got the gist of it. 

Thomas remembered having the slight experience of doing his own laundry back at WICKED, but most of the time, the helpers around the dorms would do such things - it was the same case for emptying the bins, and cleaning the dirty dishes - he didn't really like labelling the helpers as servants, as Teresa would, and didn't like seeing them slave away when it came to cleaning his clothes.

Thomas then stared down at his phone yet again in worry.

_It was 5:40pm, and there hadn't been a single peep from Teresa, since their Tuesday call._

With a dejected sigh, putting his phone and Minho's kit to the side for now, Thomas noticed that there were far too many shirts in pastel colours with buttons and collars.

Probably Newt's clothes, and a British thing, Thomas guessed. The blond was really gentlemanly in the way he dressed, after all.

Simple shirts, sweaters, collared shirts, baggy shirts, long sleeved shirts, beautifully knitted jumpers, collared shirts with the sleeves creased due to the amount someone had rolled them up, tank tops (obviously), and short sleeved shirts.

Separating the shirts rather quickly, the Greenie decided to do trousers next.

Black jeans, track suits, and cargo pants - that was practically it.

Thomas felt himself huff at how much clothing there was to sort.

_After socks, came the underwear._

Thomas stared down at the fabric which he knew covered the guys' crotches, and registered that he had to actually touch them. 

With a quick, agitated squeeze of his eyes as he scratched the back of his head, not knowing where to look, Thomas proceeded to take the boxer shorts.

 _'Oh yeah, his sports kit.'_ The boy remembered, looking over at Minho's sports bag - delicately taking the top, shorts, and spare clothes out, he blinked at the sight of Minho's running shoes.

They were black shoes, with thin, intertwined lines of a striking blue and white. Thomas couldn't help but stare at them in awe - they must have cost a fortune, and were unbelievably clean for the amount Minho trained. 

After a while of intent staring, Thomas could spot a few smudges of mud on it.

The Greenie stared at it with a cocked eyebrow, wondering what he could do about it. 

In the end, he decided to come back to the shoes later, beginning to sort Minho’s clothing out in the assorted clothing piles.

After a while had passed of separating colours, and more assorting, Thomas sighed out in relief, turning away from the table full of clothes - turning the washing machine on, the Greenie now searched for the detergent in the cupboards.

" _What a chore..._ " He muttered to himself.

* * *

By the time Thomas was done with washing the laundry, having waited patiently as the clothing was washed and dried in its entirety, the bell signifying dinner had resounded throughout the building.

Looking over to see that most of the Gladers had rushed out of the laundry room, practically abandoning all of their clothes, Thomas sighed at the amount of shouting he could hear, and the sight of the boy's pushing against one another as they raced past the door.

Thomas wasn't all that hungry. He was just tired.

Truthfully, the Greenie wanted to get all of his chores out of the way, and get some rest for tomorrow morning. He dreaded the thought of his Sunday rotations.

Nodding to himself, the boy then took the now-clean clothes, dumping them in the laundry basket (with the exception of Minho's sports clothing, which he put back into the Keeper's bag). 

Putting the bag over his shoulder, and heaving the laundry basket up with a slight grunt, Thomas was thankful to finally leave the room.

"Let's see...next was...folding clothes, and emptying the bins." He listed off quietly.

The Greenie deemed himself lucky that Newt and Minho had emptied the bins last Tuesday, during his welcoming party. 

Of course, it took Thomas a few seconds until he remembered - despite such a thing, the bins were already relatively filled up, causing him to sigh out.

Making his way up the flights of stairs, seeing no Glader in sight, the Greenie felt his mind wander - towards his mother in particular.

Not that he could spend that much time at home in the past, given that he used to attend WICKED, and she was far too busy with her job, but he now understood how hard his mother had to work to wash his clothes, and clean up in general. 

Thomas remembered that, at most, the only time he would bother her by coming back home was during Christmas break and thanksgiving, which was at her own request.

Of course, the boy knew that his bedroom at home could hardly be called a cosy room - the only thing he had was a bed, his desk, and his chair. The books he owned were also reclaimed by WICKED.

Feeling himself grow agitated, Thomas' memory of the past was a slight haze. He could remember missing his mother immensely after entering WICKED's preschool, and crying whilst the adults struggled to put him to sleep in the dorms - the lonely feeling was crushing. 

He could remember that she would visit him from time to time at WICKED, asking him if he minded to stay there during the holiday breaks, since herself and Thomas' father were so busy with work.

He was told that the students were allowed to stay at the boarding school during the breaks, and the Greenie realised Jorge saying something similar, in regards to Maze Runner.

Thomas decided to tell his mother that he didn't mind. And so, ever since, that was the case.

The Greenie was suddenly overtaken with the urge to just drop the laundry, and take his phone out to call her - they did so when they couldn't see each other, after all.

The boy then shook such a thought off, his mind drifting towards his father as he continued walking down the halls, making twists and turns here and there.

Thomas knew his father wasn't around much - he visited home during Christmas, but even that wasn't for a full day. The man was extremely busy, which Thomas was fine with - he wondered if his mother was, too.

After being snapped out of his thoughts, having finally reached the dorm room, Thomas entered, wasting no time in putting both Minho's sports bag and the laundry basket down.

Quickly folding all of the clothes, Thomas hadn't given himself the chance to breathe - he then placed the folded pile on the couch delicately (with the exception of his own clothes, either hanging them up, or putting them in the drawers), knowing that Chuck, Minho, and Newt would take their respective clothing, and deal with hanging them up, or putting them away in the drawers themselves. After all, Thomas was a Greenie, and couldn't accurately pinpoint what belonged to who.

 _'One task done.'_ He thought to himself, wiping the sweat off his brow as he turned around to look between the two bins with squinted eyes.

There was no way he could carry both at the same time - his arms were exhausted, and they looked unbelievably heavy. 

Letting out a groan, Thomas made his way towards the first bin, pulling the black bag out of it, only to find that he was right. It was unbelievably heavy.

With a slight sigh, Thomas made his way back down the two flights of stairs, attempting to keep the contents within the bag as quiet as possible – noticing that the cheers and conversations coming from the Gladers were becoming more audible, the boy couldn’t help but release his slight frown as he approached Glade A’s cafeteria.

Walking into the dorm cafeteria, Thomas lit up at the sight of the Gladers, all beaming enthusiastically as they conversed, laughed, and argued - a lot of the conversations going on were about the food, which didn’t seem like anything new in the time he had spent here so far.

**_"Oh, Tommy!"_ **

Thomas looked over to spot Newt, who had proceeded to stand up slightly at the sight of the boy with a smile.

Thomas could feel his ears go red at the nickname, but none of the other Gladers seemed to care as their yells about the food were overlapping - they seemed a lot more lively than usual.

"Come on and eat while it's still hot!" Newt urged the Greenie, gesturing towards the feast.

"They're Frypan's homemade noodles and chicken!" Chuck informed Thomas in excitement, unable to help the huge grin on his face - holding his bowl up as he slurped away at the soup, the pudgy boy was sat by Newt’s side.

Thomas felt a wave of affection for Chuck for no particular reason at that moment, and couldn't help but return the grin.

"Although the noodles are just instant," Frypan insisted bashfully, scratching the back of his head, "The soup and its flavours are mine." He added on in information, sat between Clint and Jeff.

Thomas gave a small nod of registration towards the beefy senior with a small smile, before his eyes involuntarily flickered over towards Minho.

The Keeper was currently in the middle of an intense arm wrestle with Ben as the other runners were crowding the two boys whilst stood up - of course, they were all cheering their captain on in overlapping yells, being the loudest table, whilst poor Ben was struggling immensely as he leaned over the table.

_“C’mon, Minho, you can do it!”_

_“Ben, you Slinthead! Just give up already!”_

_“The victor gets to take the other’s pieces of chicken in their noodles!”_

“Slim it, Shanks, _I got this!_ ” Minho said, sounding relatively strained as Ben’s muscles were on the verge of exploding, inches away from hitting the table, and signifying his loss. Thomas stared at Minho’s muscles with parted lips, since the older guy had rolled his shirtsleeves all the way up to his biceps - they were seriously bulging out.

"It's bloody amazin', Fry," Newt complimented with a grin, snapping Thomas out of his trance – as the Greenie looked over at Newt in a slight hurry, he saw that the boy was staring at him with a smile, eyes gleaming in amusement, "C'mon, Tommy!"

"Oh, no, I'm fine for now!" Thomas replied quickly, wanting to avoid making a huge scene.

Chuck and Newt stared at him for a few moments, until the boy smiled at them, holding the black bin bag up.

"Just wanted to know, but I need to take this out back, right?" He asked casually, trying to redirect the conversation.

Newt blinked at Thomas curiously, before nodding and turning his head towards the back doors of Glade A -Thomas knew that they were the same doors that the kitchen staff always used to take their leave.

"Yeah, just take it to the trash dumpsters out there, “ Newt instructed, turning his head back around to face the Greenie, pointing behind his shoulder with a thumb, "But y'might want to hurry - given that dinner's started, the Grievers are probably on their way to lock all the bloody doors." He added on.

"I'll be fine, don't worry!" Thomas assured with a grin, causing Newt to cock an eyebrow as he folded his arms, rather sceptical.

"If y'say so, Tommy." He replied.

Sending Chuck and Newt a reassuring nod, Thomas proceeded to make his way out of the back doors, making sure to close them delicately behind him.

After having the refreshing Autumn air hit him in the face all at once, Thomas couldn’t help but close his eyes with a smile, inhaling the scent of the trees and grass, proceeding to exhale as the sounds of the Gladers had faded out - whilst he walked over to the two large dumpsters, the boy could hear the rustling of the trees, the owls hooting away, and the cars which were passing by the school.

A few moments had passed for Thomas like this, his head tilted backwards to face up to the night sky – after slowly opening his eyes, the boy’s lips parted in surprise at the sight of the constellations, which seemed oddly apparent today.

Thomas recalled always wanting to see the stars in their purest form back at WICKED, but given the amount of lighting surrounding the acres of land Paige had managed to get her hands on, of course, it was impossible. Then again, it gave him a reason to visit the planetarium from time to time, not far from the school.

Thomas wondered if there was a planetarium in this city, too.

“ _Oi, Shuckface - y’might wanna hurry it up. The Grievers will arrive at any second now._ ”

The Greenie couldn’t help but jump slightly at the address, now holding the bin bag with both hands as his shoulders tensed up, turning himself around.

Thomas was taken aback to see Minho walking up to him, then past him – seeing that the Keeper had opened the enlarged lid to the dumpster, and threw a black bin bag into it, the Greenie felt his eyes widened slightly.

“Wait— _was that—_ “

“The other bin bag from our room?” Minho interrupted with a smirk, raising his eyebrows as he kept the dumpster open with one arm, “Why yes, Greenie, it was.” He informed, before pausing slightly, and cocking an eyebrow at Thomas, “Y’got a problem with that, Shuckface?” He asked.

“…Yeah, I do, actually,” Thomas replied – he then trailed off, “…Does that mean I owe you now, or somethin’?” He inquired in a mutter, glancing down at his feet.

“No, it means we’re even.” Minho sighed out after a few seconds, tilting his head towards the dumpster as a gesture.

Thomas proceeded to chuck the bin bag into it, Minho instantaneously retracting his arm from keeping it open, causing a loud thud to be heard.

“Man, are you one slow shank, or what?" The Keeper asked with a smirk.

"Yet this slow shank is now a first string runner 'cause of you." Thomas replied, a slight amusement laced in his voice as he stuck his tongue out at the taller boy, "Not to mention _'your responsibility'_." He added on, turning on his heel, and walking towards the back doors whilst dusting his hands off.

"Gettin' awful confident, aren't we, Greenie?" Minho asked with a smirk, walking over to the shorter boy’s side, hands now in his pockets, "Y' haven't even begun your training yet." He added on as a reminder, causing Thomas' facial expression to waver.

"...You have a point," Thomas muttered in reply after a few seconds of consideration, scratching the back of his head sheepishly – Minho couldn’t help but smile, “Anyway, who won in the end?” He asked, changing the subject as he looked up at the taller boy curiously.

Minho stared down at him for a few moments, before looking away with squinted eyes.

“… ** _Ben did_**.” He muttered in reply.

Thomas blinked in utter surprise and raised his eyebrows, lips parted as his hand was inches away from opening the back doors to enter the Glade again.

“What? _Really?_ ” The Greenie asked, “ _Woah, that’s unexpected…_ " He said, glancing down at his feet, before looking at Minho in confusion, " _Even though you were practically inches away from victory last I saw?_ ”

“Yeah, well, let’s just say that I got distracted by a _certain_ Shuckface and his guilt-tripping appearance.” Minho replied, sending him an accusatory look.

“Hey man, don’t pin the blame on me,” Thomas replied with a smile, raising his eyebrows, and holding his hands up to prove his innocence, “Just ‘cause you don’t lift as hard as Ben does.” He teased with a smirk, “That, or my beautiful face was just too much for you to handle – well, I’m not surprised – anyone would get distracted by all of…” He trailed off, gesturing at himself, “ _This_.”

“I wouldn’t bet on either'a those options, Shuckface.” Minho retorted with a roll of his eyes.

Thomas merely snorted at the reply.

“...Uh, so, anyway…” The Keeper began, scratching the back of his neck, “…I’ll help you with the dishes today.” He offered spontaneously.

Thomas couldn’t help but stare at Minho, before cocking an eyebrow.

“What…? _Why_?” He asked slowly, a wave of confusion enveloping him.

“…I saw upstairs…our clothes?" Minho offered, "I could tell how hard you worked to wash all of ‘em, and Anchor Runners are just those types of people.” He added on in explanation, giving a small shrug.

“ _We don’t even know if I’m—_ “

“And like—you know…You do a better job than Newt and Chuck put together, when it comes to washing my sports kit.” Minho interrupted, sighing out, “Gotta be honest with you, it hasn’t smelt like it does now in a long time.”

“Maybe ‘cause a certain someone is too lazy to wash it himself, and instead has others do it for him.” Thomas retorted with a roll of his eyes.

“I do wash it, Greenie, but—you know, sweat and all that…” Minho trailed off in reply, glancing to the side momentarily, as though he was checkmated, and Thomas couldn’t help but smile, "Plus, I'm a busy guy." The Keeper added on to justify himself.

“Well, you’re welcome, at any rate.” Thomas replied, “And I would love some help...thanks, Minho.”

"Good that.”

* * *

After the two boys had succeeded in washing the dishes which had piled up in their dorm room, proceeding to help clean up after dinner with a few other boys (of course, at Frypan's request - they couldn't bring themselves to say no to the senior), the two runners had now collapsed on the couch upon entering their dorm room yet again, simultaneously letting out a sigh of relief.

After a while of nothing but the sounds of their breathing, Minho spoke up. 

"I ain't ever helpin' your shuck backside again, Greenie - _know that_." He groaned out, "My joints are killin' me!"

"Not my fault you offered to help," Thomas retorted, sliding off of the couch, and beginning to roll around on the plush carpet, "Man, we washed way too many dishes! I think my fingers are going to smell like fairy liquid until senior year!" He added on with a bitter laugh.

Minho merely stared down at him with squinted eyes.

_"You're jacked, dude."_

_"Could say the same about you."_

_"Slim it."_

With a roll of his eyes, Minho looked around, noticing the lack of their two other roommates.

"Chuck and Newt are probably downstairs with the others," He huffed out, glancing over at the door, then back at Thomas, "Wanna go see what they're all up to?" The boy asked casually, facial expression resembling that of boredom. 

Thomas blinked curiously as he sat up, hands in his lap.

"Well, they're all probably actin' like crazy slintheads while playin' a game or somethin'," Minho carried on offhandedly, before smiling, "But still - it's pretty entertaining to watch." 

"I've watched nothing but movies with the other guys since I arrived here," Thomas replied with a small smile, "But Newt did mention that you all played games together...Is it fun?" He asked.

"Well duh," Minho replied with a smirk, rolling his eyes, "But given that we all gotta be in the right mood - so yeah, I guess you could say it's pretty fun - and pretty regular - you'll get used to it soon enough." He added on in reassurance.

Thomas replied with a few nods as Minho proceeded to stand up, hands in his pockets.

"C'mon then, Greenie - let's go." The Keeper urged.

"You can, but I think I'll stay here after all," Thomas replied with a small smile, "I still need to clean your running shoes."

A while of silence compelled Thomas to look over at Minho - surprisingly enough to the Greenie, the Keeper was stupefied - with Minho's lips parted, and his eyes wide, Thomas couldn't help but laugh nervously, also standing up.

"Seriously, _you_ \---"

"I might as well go full circle," Thomas interrupted, walking over to Minho's sports bag and crouching down, "I've already washed the rest of your stuff, after all." He added on, now taking the running shoes out.

Thomas hadn't awaited an answer as he spotted one of the spare pieces of cloth lying about on Newt's desk, taking it without hesitation.

Upon seeing Thomas sit on his bottom bunk, taking a water bottle out of his school bag, and dampening the cloth with it, Minho couldn't help but peer at the boy, before gulping discreetly - as Thomas now stared down at Minho's shoe intensely, holding it up to rub at the marks of mud with the wet cloth, Minho turned his head away, ruffling his hair with a kiss of his teeth.

"Ugh, fine, _fine_!" The Keeper snapped abruptly - Thomas kept his eyes fixated on the shoe as he continued the motion.

"What?" The Greenie asked with an abrupt raise of his eyebrows, as though Minho's spontaneity was a regular occurrence. 

With a slight frown, Minho made his way to stand in front of the Greenie, before snatching his other shoe and the water bottle (both of which rested beside Thomas).

As the shorter boy's eyes flickered over to register what Minho was doing, his lips parted in surprise - The Keeper seemed to have taken another random piece of cloth which was lying about in the room, proceeding to sit on the opposite bottom bunk, belonging to Chuck.

As Minho hunched over and leaned forward, staring down at his running shoe through squinted eyes, he quickly dampened the cloth, and began rubbing at the marks vigorously.

Thomas blinked at the boy for a few moments in surprise, unable to help himself when it came to his sudden laughter.

"What, Shuckface?" Minho spat in question, keeping his eyes glued to his shoe, "Don't get distracted." He added on with a mutter.

"Yes,  _sir_." Thomas replied with a roll of his eyes, clearly amused by Minho's dishonesty as he went back to cleaning the ever-so-slightly muddy object.

The guy was a lot more caring than Thomas thought.

' _Which reminds me..._ '

"By the way, Minho." Thomas began in address.

"What d'ya want, Greenie?" Came the Keeper’s low, unamused reply.

"If what Alby said is right, about me being an Anchor Runner and all--"

"We don't know that for sure until we test you tomorrow, but go on."

"Yeah, uh..." Thomas couldn't help but trail off, scratching the back of his head - Minho was now staring at the boy, with his running shoe held low in hand.

Thomas felt himself shift slightly at the sight of Minho staring at him intensely - it was almost like the guy was observing him, similar to the first time they had met. 

Yet the elder boy remained quiet, waiting patiently, and Thomas quickly put the shoe and cloth to the side.

"My point is, if runners are assorted into groups, based on what kind of running technique they specialise in, that means you, uh…you're a particular type of runner too, right?" Thomas asked, feeling himself glance down at his feet, then at Minho's face repeatedly whilst fiddling with his fingers.

Thomas knew Minho was a running prodigy, but he couldn't lie - he was slightly apprehensive about asking such a question. This would be the perfect opportunity for the Keeper to brag about his amazing ability, and put Thomas down, after all. 

The guys at WICKED were usually like that. Not towards him in particular, but these were now different circumstances for Thomas.

“Now that you mention it...” Minho began, leaning back on the bunk, “I’m not - I just sort of run.” He stated casually, now examining the shoe - Thomas stared in curiosity, silently urging the elder boy to continue, “I mean, I can do all of the techniques without slip ups, and know them like the back of my hand, so…”

Thomas blinked to see that Minho had put the shoe and cloth to the side, leaning back again with a slight shrug.

“So you're...?” 

“Just a Runner without a label, I guess." Minho stated, before pausing, "Well, a Glade Runner who remains loyal to his running practise, at any rate." He added on with yet another shrug.

Thomas nodded his head slowly, before looking up at the ceiling in thought.

"I wonder what it means...you're fast, your form is immaculate, you can do all of the techniques..." The Greenie listed, "I think everyone's right in calling you a running prodigy. Maybe that’s your label - a ‘prodigy runner’."

"It don't mean nothin', Greenie - stop overthinking, or you'll hurt your jacked brain." Minho replied with a snigger.

After noticing the Thomas in yet another trance, Minho let out a slight laugh.

"Then I'll ask you a question, Thomas," The Keeper brought up, leaning forward as his interlaced fingers rested on his knees, "What do you think it means? To be a runner in general, I mean."

Thomas stared at Minho in surprise.

"Well, definition-wise, it's someone who runs in a specified way..." The Greenie replied, "And to me, an Anchor Runner is basically a runner who's always fast."

"That’s known as a ‘Tempo Runner’, actually." Minho corrected.

Thomas cocked an eyebrow curiously.

"It's probably the closest term that can describe me. They’re the ones who always run at their fastest speed." Minho informed, "What differentiates them from Anchor Runners is the fact that they cover longer distances, and there’s no psychological relation to the running." He added on, causing Thomas to nod.

“But a runner…well…” Thomas held his chin with a slight frown, “I’m not sure how to explain it yet – I think it’s something I need to experience to define.” He stated.

Minho couldn’t help but stare in surprise at the Greenie, before erupting into loud laughter, hugging his stomach as he spluttered – Thomas stared at Minho with half-lidded eyes as the running prodigy collapsed to the floor, rolling around, not giving his laughter a rest.

“What’s so funny?” Thomas asked bitterly, clearly unamused as he shook his head in exasperation with a roll of his eyes.

“ _N-Nah, it’s just---_!” Minho cut himself off as more laughter interfered with his sentence, making Thomas roll his tongue inside his mouth, keeping his facial expression blank.

After a few moments, contemplating as to whether or not he should leave, Thomas jumped in surprise when Minho sat up spontaneously, abruptly bringing his laughter to a stop.

The Greenie stared with wide eyes, lips parted.

Minho was smiling at him.

And to Thomas, it wasn’t like the Keeper’s regular, condescending, sassy, or humorous smirks, let alone his cheekily toothy grins - it was a lot more than that.

It was one of those smiles that a friend exchanged with another – one that showed their bond, that they trusted the other, and that they were there for the other.

Teresa was the only one who had ever shown Thomas such a sight, but the Greenie quickly shook such a negative thought off.

Minho’s smile was far more intricate than he made it out to be on a daily basis, with his humorous jokes, or pure sass – the elder boy, despite currently being on the floor and looking up at Thomas, seemed to be glowing.

Thomas could make out curved dimples, the two moles on the Keeper’s right cheek becoming far more prominent – Minho’s tanned skin stood out all the more as he showed off a wide and genuinely  toothy grin, with his eyebrows raised, eyes resembling that of a crescent moon.

Not knowing what to say, Thomas merely let his lips curve into what he had hoped would be a smile, even daring to show a bit of teeth as he rubbed his arm nervously.

“Ah!” Minho called out, pointing at the boy instantly as his face lit up in amusement, “‘Dude, you're one ugly Shank!” He teased.

“Slim it, Minho.” Thomas muttered in reply, feeling his face heat up as he looked away with a frown.

_‘I must be imagining things…no way a guy like that can smile genuinely.’_

A few moments of silence had passed as Minho continued to smile up at Thomas, and the younger boy looked back into his eyes sceptically. 

“ _Hey, Greenie, y’know, I_ \---“

Minho’s sentence was then cut short as a distracting, persistent buzz resounded throughout the dorm room – Thomas jumped in shock, quickly looking down to fumble around for his phone which was currently ringing in his pocket, seeming to become louder and louder by the second.

The Keeper squinted his eyes and parted his lips, cocking an eyebrow – as Thomas looked down and registered who was calling him, he looked at Minho with wide eyes.

“It’s Teresa!” He informed with a slight beam, “Sorry, I gotta take this, Minho – tell me about it later?”

Minho rolled his tongue in his mouth, raising his eyebrows curtly – glancing to the side, he then stood up, a hand in his pocket as the other held his running shoe – throwing it into his sports bag, the boy then gestured to his other shoe by Thomas, before disappearing out of the room.

With a roll of his eyes, Thomas redirected his attention towards his phone, standing up – and with a shaky sigh, he answered the call.

“Teresa,” He began, relatively calm – but in that moment, his worry overflowed for the girl, “I haven’t heard from you since Tuesday! It’s Sunday right now!” He snapped, “D’you know how worried I was?” He asked, wincing at how harsh he sounded, “You said you would text or call me!”

“ _Tom, I’m so sorry!_ ” Came Teresa’s high-pitched reply – Thomas had missed listening to her voice, “Look, the trains were delayed ‘cause it’s snowing like crazy over here!” She explained, “I was preoccupied with explaining everything to your mom, and rebooking my tickets! I forgot how confusing train stops can be!”

Thomas blinked in surprise at the information.

“What? It’s snowing in the middle of September?” He inquired, “It’s a bit early for Jack Frost to make an arrival, don’t you think?”

“Stop with the jokes, you ass,” Teresa retorted, causing the Greenie to snigger as he could practically see her rolling her eyes, “But yeah, it was snowing heavily from Wednesday to Thursday, so I was stuck in the station living off of Starbucks and Burger King – of course, Friday was the train ride, so I actually arrived at your place yesterday evening.”

After registering the information, Thomas let out a sigh of guilt, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“…Yeah, that makes sense, actually.” He muttered.

“Sorry for making you worry, Tom.”

“No, look—I—“ Thomas cut himself off, “It’s my fault for not reaching out to you first – I’ve been so busy with school and this upcoming running tournament – not to mention running practise starts tomorrow morning, so—“

“I understand, Tom, you don’t need to explain.”

“Thanks…”

After a few moments of awkward silence, Thomas spoke up.

“So, how did your parents take all of this? You just upping and leaving WICKED?”

“Of course, I called them before I left that dump, telling them how I couldn’t stand being there a minute longer, how rude the staff and kids were, and how I knew a school with better opportunities, and…surprisingly enough, they were okay with it.” Teresa replied, “They trust your Mom enough to take care of me for a day or two – although I did have to lie to them about why you left WICKED – told ‘em that you and Paige agreed it’s more beneficial for you to go to Maze Runner, since it has more opportunities, and all that. I hope that’s okay?”

“Yeah, don’t worry ‘bout it,” Thomas replied with a smile, “So today you’ve been…?”

“Applying for Maze Runner, which they said would take a day or two for the application to go through, resting, helping your mom clean up,” She listed off, “Honestly, I can’t believe you left your room in that state.”

“Hah, uh, yeah, sorry about that…”

“Tom?”

“…Yeah?”

“ _I can’t wait to see you again_.”

“… _Me too_.”


End file.
